


A Minor Bird

by Moon_Rose (Moonrose91)



Series: The Art of Language [1]
Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, BOFA Fix-It, Book Spoilers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fight Scenes, Gen, Graphic Description, Hurt/Comfort, More like ignoring it, Near Death Experience, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Prompt Fic, Severe Injury, Technically there is Attempted Suicide through Nonaction, The Graphic Description of Violence is for later chapters, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-30
Updated: 2013-05-08
Packaged: 2017-11-27 14:55:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 33
Words: 31,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/663292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonrose91/pseuds/Moon_Rose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <a href="http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/3138.html?thread=4468034#t4468034">Prompt Here</a>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Bilbo Baggins is banished still, but his side often feels like it is on fire and he knows that he will not make it to the Shire.</p><p>And he decides he would rather die at the foot of the Lonely Mountain (it does not matter that it is reclaimed, for that name fits it much better than Erebor for Bilbo), as close to his family as he can get then on some lonely, twisting, road.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. At the Foot of the Mountain was a Shallow Cave

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyRedFeather](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyRedFeather/gifts).



> In this work I mention a "Thief's Lamp" which is a knot of thread.
> 
> It was created by [GreenKangaroo](http://archiveofourown.org/users/greenkangaroo/pseuds/greenkangaroo) for the various Nori fics that this person writes.
> 
> These fics are GLORIOUS AND WONDERFUL AND YOU SHOULD READ THEM!!!
> 
> The Nori feels will drown you.
> 
> Probably.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I have wished a bird would fly away,_   
>  _And not sing by my house all day;_
> 
>   _Have clapped my hands at him from the door_  
>  _When it seemed as if I could bear no more._
> 
> _The fault must partly have been in me._   
>  _The bird was not to blame for his key._
> 
> _And of course there must be something wrong_   
>  _In wanting to silence any song._
> 
> ~ Robert Frost

Thorin's voice echoed through Bilbo's mind hours after Bilbo had left Erebor, somehow walking to the foot of the Lonely Mountain, out of the way, where a small, shallow, cave was.

He had seen it during the battle, when things were mad, but it would give him shelter while he tried to figure out what to do, now that he was no longer welcome with the Family of his Heart.

_"You are never to step foot into my kingdom again, Halfling."_

And Bilbo, who had fought so hard, and so long, for Thorin’s affection (and trust), had felt his heart shatter at the demand. But, because Bilbo could give nothing else, he had sworn to Thorin Oakenshield, to the King under the Mountain, to the _Dwarf_ who urged him out his door, that Bilbo Baggins would never again step foot in Erebor, leaving once his vow was given.

Now, hidden in the little cave, he carefully opens his Dwarven coat, a gift from Balin (and Dwalin, not that the taciturn warrior would ever admit it) and carefully investigates his injury.

His  _infected_ injury, if the heat coming off of it was any indication, caused by a lucky orc blade.

Bilbo knows because, foolish him, he had not taken the gift of mithril mail with him when he left to visit Bard, had not worn it when he delivered the Arkenstone to them.

Bilbo Baggins had left it behind, refusing to take anything more from Thorin than he already had.

He truly was an undersized burglar  _now_ wasn't he?

He closed his eyes in emotional turmoil and then gave a shaky, morbid, smile over the heat coming off the injury.

He would never make it to the Shire, not with this type of injury, and he would find no help here, all of the Healing and Food Tents within Erebor proper, where he could not, _would not_ , go.

He considered, for a time, attempting the journey back to the Shire anyway, but he did not wish to die somewhere on the lonely, winding, road. With that realization, he made his choice.

He would die, here, at the foot of the Lonely Mountain, as close to the Family of his Heart as he could get.

And he would do so with no regrets.

An accepting, and morbid, smile spread across his face, even as the rain began to pour down, as if the sky itself mourned his decision, mourned his choice to seek no aid and, instead, just wait for infection, or starvation (or dehydration) to take him.

Bilbo Baggins had no idea that his salvation had, just now, passed through the gates of Erebor.


	2. Gentle Tales

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tale Bilbo tells in this I made up. It is not, to my knowledge, part of anything.
> 
> It borrows heavily from Tolkien, however, so it is not entirely mine.
> 
> Anyway, the names he uses are part of my headcanon about the Hobbits' creation, which I share with ingenious-spark.
> 
> (I refuse to believe they are an off-shoot of Men, I am sorry. If they were, the Ring would have gotten back to Sauron rather easily, and simply, and they'd all be dead, or worse than dead.)
> 
> So...yeah.
> 
> I apologize for throwing my headcanon at you.

Bilbo nearly dropped the waterskin that was thrown to him by one of the Dwarves (one of the new ones, one of the ones who did not know who he was, except that he was an odd sort) he had been helping over the past two days with things outside of Erebor, wishing desperately to help still, but often getting out of sight whenever talk of "heading inside" was brought up, or even whenever he saw a member of the Company coming outside of the gates. "Ye still haven't gotten your new one Bilbo!" the Dwarf scolded and Bilbo just nodded and laughed.

He took a polite swig from it and moved to hand it back, when the Dwarf waved him off. "Keep it. I have a feeling you just forget. Your lips are chapped and bleeding something fierce anyway. Maybe you should...and he's gone," the Dwarf stated and Bilbo had taken the chance, when he looked away, to dart out of sight.

The statement was irritated and his companions laughed. "Next time, just hog-tie him and haul him in. He's obviously hiding injuries," one stated and Bilbo knew he would have to avoid them until they forgot about the odd, barefoot Bilbo who seemed to belong nowhere.

It was the same routine over the past week since his banishment, and the waterskin in his hand was full.

Not that water had been a problem the first few days, the rain pouring down and, while it got Bilbo soaked and set a fever into his skin, it had kept him from dying from dehydration after four days.

But with the fever that had set in after all the rain, something that steadily grew worse, with the sickly infection adding to it, his condition was rapidly declining. Especially as his only access to food was what the Dwarves he helped tossed at him when they realized that "silly Bilbo" had once again missed the food cart.

The fact it was pushed by Bombur was the only reason he avoided it, for he did not want the Company, his Family of his Heart, to see him this way.

He did not want to be found by them, for they would drag him in, they would force him to break his Oath, and he would not do that to Thorin.

He had done enough harm...

Bilbo's thoughts scattered at the sound of childish laughter and he turned, curls falling into his face at the action (he had long lost the braids his family, omitting Gloin and Bombur, had taken time to braid into his hair when it got long enough) to see a very annoyed, dark haired (and bearded) Dwarf mother, dressed in a dark blue and silver dress, hauling up a wayward, black haired child by the back of her simple dress, while the mother's free hand snapped out again with a frustrated sound as a dark haired (brownish-red, reminding Bilbo strongly of Gloin) child, reminding Bilbo strongly of a tween, tried to run past her, but she caught him. "What would your mams say if they saw you like this?" she exclaimed and the one she had hefted into the air whined and twisted.

"But we're  _bored_ ," the girl protested.

"Well, we can't have that," Bilbo stated, drawing the attention of the mother, the child, and the Dwarf tween.

Bilbo immediately flushed and gave a deep bow, even as it made his side _scream_ and introduced himself.

"Bilbo, at your service, dear Lady."

He stood back up normally and the Dwarf mother smiled. "Dis, at yours Master Bilbo," she answered, giving a bob of her head.

Bilbo smiled tiredly. "Just Bilbo, Lady Dis. I'm not 'master' of anything," he corrected gently and then noticed the other children behind her.

A total of six, though if he included those she held onto they numbered eight (and all Dwarves), and he turned his thoughts to the children of the Shire, before he smiled in what he hopes is a gentle manner. "If I may, Lady Dis, I think I have an idea of how to hold their wayward thoughts," he stated and she laughed.

"If you do, Bilbo, you shall have my eternal gratitude," she answered and he smiled before he managed to get settled on a rock, out of direct sight of the gates (they were rather close, he noticed that now, and he almost asked for them to move away, but that would be foolish and stupid, as he was sure there were dangers still around, dangers that could end a child's life, which was unacceptable) and closed his eyes in thought.

He then smiled and opened his eyes.

None of these children would speak of what he told them, hopefully, and nodded a bit in satisfaction.

"Well, you must understand this is a very simple tale. You'll probably find it quite boring, in fact. It has nothing to do with battles or anything of that sort. No, not at all. It has to do with a very sad lady and her husband, a king," he began, knowing he should probably not be telling them this tale.

For it, and all tales like it, were secrets that the Hobbits gladly kept, much like how they kept  _themselves_ secret, and everything that they were, if they could help it. Even those in Bree did as well and he smiled a bit at the pleadings from the only girl. "Oh, please, Mister Bilbo!" she begged, eyes bright.

The boy like Gloin frowned a bit, but the other boys scooted forward slightly, a half-circle around the sole girl.

"Well, if you insist," he stated and settled more on his rock.

"Once upon a time, after the Sun and Moon were hung in the sky, and after the First Three were awoken, and the Great Trees that could breathe and talk had awoken, the Green Lady, surveyor of all that was green and growing and living upon the World, stared out across the land and heaved a great sigh. Her husband, the Stone King, heard her and settled next to her, in great concern, and asked, " _My dear one, why do you sigh?"_

"With sad eyes, settled as she was in the Great Fields that surrounded the Stone King's Mountain Hall, she turned to him and said, _"I feel alone. I govern all that is living, and yet I have none of my own. I have taught all that will be taught to those that will hear my teachings, and now I have no one."_

"The Stone King tried to comfort her with the Great Trees, but she merely began to cry, explaining that they could not hear her, unless she spoke for the trees. When he tried to comfort her with thoughts of his own Children, she cried more, explaining that they could not hear her at _all_ unless she spoke through him, and he knew what she wished for..."

Here Bilbo paused, mostly to catch his breath as his side burned.

However, the children were inching forward eyes wide.

"The Stone King knew that the Green Lady wished for children of her own. She wanted being that could hear her and that she could teach and protect, and settle into their own places. But he also knew she feared them coming to harm from the Dark One, just as she feared all others she surveyed coming to harm. The Stone King, possibly quite foolishly, believed this fear would stay her voice.

"But, the Stone King, as most do, had forgotten the Green Lady surveyed those things that grow. And while things that grow can be burned by fire down to the roots or stopped by obstacles, this does not stop the growth. It only delays it for a while. It was in this manner that the Green Lady and the Stone King were far more different and alike then in any others and lead to quite a few arguments in which they just stared at each other, neither willing to bend, especially when the Green Lady decided to channel the oak trees instead of the grass.

"He had forgotten how, once an idea took root in his dear wife's mind, it would not be so easily changed.

"At the next Great Council, the Green Lady requested that a plea be taken to the Great One. The request was granted and the Green Lady spilled her desire for children of her own, for the Children Born of Others could not, or would not, hear her unless they wished to. They took her knowledge and they twisted it and here the Green Lady began to cry, explaining her desire to have Children to Nurture of her own. To plant the seeds of knowledge and watch them grow.

"It was said that the Great One would speak to her at a later date and she accepted this, but a fear settled in the Stone King's heart, for only he knew how deep his wife's desire for Children of Her Own went. Only he knew that she would do as he had done and he feared for his wife, for he did not think that the Great One would be merciful twice."

Bilbo resisted the urge to smile at the way the girl was now clinging to one of his legs ankles, eyes wide as she stared up at him. "What happened?" she asked.

He was almost tempted to ask Dis if it was time for lunch for the little ones, but she seemed to want to know what happened next as well.

"Well, time passed and the Stone King saw how his wife touched flowers thoughtfully and how she ran fingers over tree bark, and how she scratched the foxes' ears. He knew what she was planning and then...they were called. And the Great One's decision was given," he continued and paused to sip at his waterskin.

There was a squeaking sound from the girl, who now tugged at his trouser leg.

"The Stone King waited, fear rolling in his heart, when the decision came.” _Green Lady, if truly you desire your Own, you shall have them. Form them as you will and I shall breathe life into them,"_ the Great One said.

"And the Green Lady thanked him and smiled and rushed to do just that. And she made them small and hardy folk, who loved growing things and life in general, who could creep about unnoticed and hide even when there was no place to hide. And then she tucked them away.

"And, there were her beings, the Smallest of All, with no home of their own. They were alone in the Wildes, and they liked it that way. There, they learned of nature, from hearing the gentle whispers and the language the Green Lady spoke to them. They learned what was dangerous and what was not and how to make something dangerous not so. And they learned and _taught_ the Green Lady in return. She laughed as a mother should and smiled and frowned. She nurtured, as was her nature, and the Stone King, her husband, even had a hand.

"For she said that she was incomplete without him, and so would her children. And so, if the Smallest of All listen very carefully, they can hear the Stone King, even as the Green Lady sings," he finished and leaned back slightly.

There was awed silence and then the girl tugged on his foot, carefully. "Another?" she asked.

And Bilbo couldn't help but laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Green Lady is Yavanna, and the Stone King is Aule.
> 
> Also, as Bilbo noted in this, he probably shouldn't have told them that tale, as it is a secret, much like everything else about Hobbits, but could not think of any other tales to give them that they would not recognize from the Company.


	3. Words of Wisdom

It had been two days since Bilbo had started telling the Dwarf children, or at least the eight under Lady Dis's care, stories and teaching them games in the Shire, but his side, which burned and ached and screamed, prevented him from playing for long, though they loved it. Mita usually won, however, as the boys (her older brother Freur the only exception) would go easy on her, as she was a girl.

During these games, Dis would sit next to him, sometimes with some bread and thin broth that Bilbo accepted gratefully, and laughed at the fact the boys went easy on Mita. "Dwalin will set their heads right, once he gets them all under his wing," Dis reassured at Bilbo's nervous glance as he watched a crowing Mita standing on Gimli's stomach, dressed like her brother.

"Dwalin?" Bilbo asked.

Dis nodded a bit, eyes constantly searching the grounds. "Dwalin takes training of the children very seriously, for those whose parents, or guardians, need him to. He's very protective and there are quite a few Dwarven lasses that have been trying to catch his eye, though he won't look at them so long as he has children under his care. Well, one in particular mostly, but...Dwalin is Dwalin, and he'll be having them taking Mita on head to head, and she'll learn how to defend herself all the more for it," Dis explained and Bilbo let out a thankful sigh.

She glanced over and frowned at Bilbo, and he forced his eyes away.

Dis, in that moment, looked very much like Thorin in one of his early disapproving moods. And he did not like that face. "I would prefer if you would come with me to the Healers," she stated, but Bilbo shook his head.

"I will be fine," he answered and then let out a laughing cough as Mita crashed into his uninjured side.

"A story Master Storyteller!" Mita exclaimed.

"Yes, a story, a story!" Nanta shouted, a boy about the same age of Mita as he collided with Bilbo's legs, Freur quickly joining him, though the other boy was babbling excitedly in Khuzdul.

Bilbo laughed tiredly as Indur, Runin, Alvis, and Brydin joined in falling on him, though Gimli (and that name had brought thousands of memories for Bilbo, of Gloin smiling with pride and talking about his son to Bilbo, who always asked for clarification, had not heard the stories a thousand times over, and had laughed at the appropriate times, had felt that jealous pride he always felt when hearing about how the children rose and toddled toward one of their parents, taking those first steps towards them) just sat close by.

"All right, all right. Just...off first!" Bilbo exclaimed, carefully shoving at the children, who giggle and laugh, before settling back, though Mita refuses to be moved.

"What story would you like to hear today?" he asked.

"One about a dragon!" Indur exclaimed.

"Indur!" Dis hissed, eyes sharp and he shrunk back slightly.

Mita gave Indur a  _look_  from her spot tucked against Bilbo's side and then she turned, staring back up Bilbo. "You made Master Storyteller go pale! I didn't think that was possible," she scolded, even as Bilbo gently ran a hand through Mita's curling braids.

"Who did your braids today Mita?" Bilbo asked as he thought rapidly for a story, while Dis scolded Indur in Khuzdul, while the rest waited patiently for the story.

"Uncle did. Cousin-Uncle wanted to, but Da said no, and than Mama chased them around with her cooking pot, both Da and Cousin-Uncle, so Uncle had to do my braids. And Freur's too," she added and Freur beamed.

"Uncle thought we looked dashing," Freur stated and Bilbo chuckled before he nodded a bit.

"Lady Dis, would you terribly dislike a story with a dragon?" he asked and Dis frowned a bit before she shook her head.

"So long as it dies. Horrifically," she answered.

"Oh, of that I can promise you Lady Dis," Bilbo answered and turned to his audience.

And, while it had some differences from what  _really_  happened, it was as close to the truth as Bilbo could risk. 

* * *

Bofur smiled as his niece and nephew crawled over his stomach as they retold the story "Master Storyteller" had told them today.

He chuckled and reached out, gently tugging Mita's braid. "And than what happened?" he asked, letting out an 'oof' as Freur flopped onto his stomach.

"Well,  _then_  the giant dragon roared and spewed fire, snarling,  _"None shall steal from me and live to tell the tale!"_  and the fast paced thief ran right out of the cave and ducked around, hiding the rock, silently scolding to himself,  _'You silly thief._ Never _laugh at a_ live _dragon!'_ "

Bofur stilled at the line and Mita frowned. "Uncle Bofur, what's wrong?" she asked and let out a low squeak as he suddenly hugged her close.

He buried his head into her shoulder, despite her worries, and couldn't answer.

Because a slightly hysterical laugh from a little Hobbit, two weeks gone, and his words of wisdom that have them staring at him like he's mad.

 _"I have learned something today. And that thing is_ never _laugh at a_ live  _dragon."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have created OC children.
> 
> And I love it.
> 
> They are just so CUTE!!!!
> 
> *squeals and coos over them*


	4. Children of Erebor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY!!!
> 
> I copied and pasted the wrong chapter in here.
> 
> *begs for forgiveness*
> 
> Also, sorry it is so short.

Dis smiled as Bombur appeared next to her, pushing his food cart. "Bombur!" she greeted brightly.

"Lady Dis. I must thank you for watching our two eldest. Since Lota had our third, she's been quite tired. Bifur, thank goodness, is good with children and that allows Lota to sleep some," Bombur stated.

"Except when she's chasing you and your cousin around with her cooking pot?" Dis returned and Bombur laughed, loud and rolling.

"Mita's been talking," Bombur stated as they left through the gates of Erebor and Dis nodded.

"Oh, yes. Our Master Storyteller has opened her right out of her shyness. He's quite a remarkable young...Dwarf. Quiet and unobtrusive," Dis answered.

Bombur didn't seem to notice her slight hesitation at calling Bilbo a Dwarf, and he smiled. "I must meet him, if he has my Mita chattering like a magpie," Bombur stated and Dis laughed before she turned, then frowned.

"Gimli, where is our Storyteller?" she called, striding over to where Gimli was standing with one of his father's axes, watching the children play tag in a small area.

"Over the rocks. I blinked and he was gone. Mita said he went over and was gone," Gimli answered and Dis frowned.

"Well, where's he going to get lunch  _now_?" Dis demanded and Gimli shrugged helplessly.

Dis glowered down at him and then there were shouts of, “Da!”

Bombur laughed jovially as he was neatly bowled over by Mita and Freur, easily avoiding his small cart of stew in doing so. The rest rushed over as well, though Gimli kept back.

Dis’s eyes, however, roamed, but she could not find Yavanna’s Child.

“Irritating little ferret,” she grumbled before she began to urge the children to get their bowls of stew and eat.

As Bombur got to his feet, with some help from Dis, he thought he saw a flash of honeyed curls, but when he looked up to the rocks, he found only the grey of the mountain.

“Bombur?” Dis asked, voice pitched low.

“I thought I saw an impossibility,” Bombur explained and then smiled down at Freur, who was chattering excitedly in a mix of Westron and Khuzdul, often smashing the words together so Bombur could barely understand him, unlike Lota, who always understood what her oldest son was saying.

Just like she knew what their baby boy, who Lota called Bwinur, needed (or wanted) at any given time.

So absorbed he was in his children, and the other little ones, that he missed the impossibility.


	5. With Hills So Green

Bilbo bit his lip bloody in the effort to keep from screaming in agony as he tried to clean his side the best he could. Practically ripped open by the orc blade, it was now weeping a clear liquid and blood in equal measure. He closed his eyes tightly and continued to try and clean it with what he had before he bandaged it, messily, once more with some bandages Dis had brought him with a frown, though she intended him to use them for his feet and would not be pleased with him, at all, if they were not there tomorrow.

He let out a regretful sigh.

He could not head back out today, not if Bombur was to spend the rest of the day with the children and Lady Dis. He shuddered as he remembered how hot his side felt, how it seemed swollen, and he curled over his side.

He knew he should avoid the food.

Dying by starvation before the snows came would be preferable.

Though, from what he read in his books, dying by being frozen wouldn’t be so bad. And if he kept it up at this rate, he would just not show up one day to tell the children stories.

He felt vaguely guilty about that, but he had sworn to Thorin, had sworn it with his heart and spirit.

Bilbo Baggins would _never_ step foot in Erebor again.

Not even for desperately needed aide.

* * *

Bilbo laughed as Mita tackled him to the ground, cuddling up to him, while the rest tried to drag her off so they could cuddle with their storyteller. “Off him you ingots! Bilbo, where _have_ you been?” Dis demanded and they children laughed and cheered as they got off of Bilbo.

“Sorry. I was delivering messages yesterday, through all the work places. I am light on my feet, when I must be, and was able to get them all delivered, though I took none into Erebor,” Bilbo answered as he was helped up by Dis, who frowned a bit over how he looked, most likely.

“You’re paler, Master Storyteller!” Brydin exclaimed, his hair bright red and Bilbo pat his braided locks with a tired smile.

“I suppose I am. Now, what do you want today little ones?” he asked.

“Story!” Alvis shouted and the rest all agreed, carefully pushing at Bilbo when the sound of hoof beats filled the air. Dis turned rapidly, before her face melted into a smile.

“Malin, if your brothers catch you out here instead of going straight to them for a greeting, they will be most displeased with you! Grounding from the forge for a week, I have no doubt!” Dis shouted as a Dwarf wearing thick leathers, rode up on a black pony, hair and beard a deep brown-black color, though the beard was mostly just sideburns.

The laugh was soundless, even as Malin dismounted and hugged Dis tightly, then turned, grinning as Gimli yanked the new Dwarf into a hug. “Malin! I thought you were coming with the last caravan!” Gimli exclaimed and the Dwarf shrugged a bit, patting Gimli’s cheek, before giving a one-shouldered shrug.

Only then did Malin focus on Bilbo, who gave a smile, slowly standing up. “Bilbo, Master Storyteller, at your service,” Bilbo greeted with a bow.

Malin smiled and gave a polite bow in return.

And then Malin hefted Mita up into their arms and settled on the ground in front of him, waving an impatient hand while the pony stood quietly.

Bilbo laughed and sat back down, the others crowding while Dis watched over them. “Tell us one of _your_ stories!” Alvis demanded, becoming bolder with Malin, whoever that was, in their midst.

Malin waited expectantly and Bilbo nodded.

“Very well then. As I have said before, the Smallest of All, the Green Lady’s Own, were a wandering people. They gathered plants from one place and then cultivated them in another. They moved from point to point, gather names for themselves when people did, in fact, see them, which was rare at all. However, being so small, and being so in tune with nature, the Green Lady realized they would need a place of their own.

“One day, while her Children lay sleeping, she began to plant seeds. Seeds of dreams, that bloomed and grew in only the most adventurous of them all. She would have frowned over it, but she knew that the wild grown flowers were the most courageous, the most likely to do what was needed. She watched as the dreams slowly bloomed.

“Of…” Bilbo paused as he choked up slightly.

Mita leaned forward slightly, eyes bright. “Master Storyteller?” she called softly.

Bilbo let out a low laugh and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Sorry, sorry. This part always gets me,” he apologized, just now being struck with the fact that he would never see the Shire again.

He took a shaky breath and smiled at the children, though it felt pained.

“And so, they dreamed. The dreamed of a land, far to the West. And land of great green rolling hills and flowers of all sorts, and of great trees that were thick and cut off sight of the hills. Of good strong earth that would accept the seeds that were given to the land, and, in return, bless those who cared for it with a plentiful bounty. Of a place that, with the curling hills and rushing river, that offered a shelter that they so longed for, hidden out of sight for as many as they choose.

“Oh, it was a beautiful place they dreamed of, as, for the first time, these wandering people dreamed of a _home_. Some who had this dream were, in the end, too afraid. This is a natural thing, of course. If you have never had a home beyond that of which you could carry on your back or what you could claim by kin and blood. If it is the only life you know, it would be frightening to leave the Wilds for a roof over your head…generally speaking. The Green Lady’s own preferred…less conventional dwellings, if they could get them,” Bilbo continued, eyes distant and locked on the west.

“But some,” he stated and looked down at the children, with a smile.

“Some…chanced it. They grabbed their kin and what they could carry, and began to walk West. They just knew, somehow, that, to the _West_ lay this place they dreamed of so. They walked for years, always moving to the west, always, always. They lost some on the way, of course, because the Wilds are not easy, or kind. But the dreams got stronger and, instead of just rolling hills, they saw many of their kind running over the green grass. Of picking flowers freely grown and planting seeds in the ground and whispering songs to the roots as they transferred plants to new places, if one needed to jump start growth.

“And one day, after years of walking, they turned a corner, and the home they had dreamed of was there, waiting to be settled.

“And it all started with them carving out a hole in the ground. A smial, they called it, and it was the start of the Green Lady’s Reflection, or any other name they called it, really,” Bilbo stated and he got a tug on his coat.

“Yes Runin?” Bilbo asked of the shyest.

“Reflection?” he asked softly.

Bilbo smiled and nodded. “Oh, quite. You see, the place they had been seeking was a reflection of the Green Lady’s fields. Without the mountain. But it was close to mountains. And the Stone King's children kept finding them, must to the Smallest’s slight distress,” Bilbo answered.

“Why?” Mita demanded.

“Well, the Green Lady’s Children had _always_ existed, _survived_ , by not being seen, or found. They are not warriors, or fighters, not really. They could, if need be, do so. They could, but they were never built to live that way. They were created to be nurturers, and gardeners…and grocers,” Bilbo answered and smiled a bit at the last word, though he knew it was a painful smile.

“The Green Lady never wished for them to fight. But they, like the trees, could get…vicious,” Bilbo explained.

“Trees? Vicious?” Freur asked, sounding unsure.

And Bilbo grinned before he launched into the next tale.

A tale of the trees and their Herders, and the dark vengeance they would strike back with when one crossed a line they should not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> May I present the AU that was requested in a review for another work of mine?
> 
> I apologize, greatly. It just happened.


	6. A Tale Untold, Though a Lie Was Granted

Bilbo looked up from where he was watching the small children running around and playing when someone settled next to him.

Malin, if he remembered correctly, was now wearing a dress with skirts, though he could see where breeches peeked out from between the slits in them, and she smiled. And then waved at him. "A tale?" he inquired and she nodded, bringing up a leg to rest her arms on, crossed and relaxed.

The movement also allowed him to see her knives. "But what kind, that is the problem. I do not know what you would like to hear," he responded and she shrugged, eyes watching the children.

They then flickered over to him and she waved her hand at him.

Bilbo laughed and shook his head. "I have led an uninteresting life, Malin," he responded and looked ahead.

He looked back over when she poked him and gave a smirk. He just shrugged and then slowly stood. He hesitated, his vision swimming, and his hand rested on the rock. He heard the children's queries, the worried voices, and Malin's hand, resting on his back. "Lady Dis!" Gimli called and there was heavy bootfalls.

"Give him space. He stood up too fast. Tells me it is time for lunch!" Dis ordered, and he felt the children leaving as Dis took their place.

"Smallest of All," she greeted and he looked up at her, her eyes heavy.

"We are, if your tales hold any truth, distant kin, bound through marriage if not blood through our Creators. Why will you not seek help from our Kingdom?" she inquired, all Dwarf bluntness that he both loved and made him want to bury his face in his hands, all at once.

"Lady Dis, I made an oath once. I intend to keep it," he responded and carefully stepped away from her grip.

She let him go and he relaxed.

In all honesty, he should have known better, especially when more medical supplies were shoved into his hands by Malin, eyes sharp. He did not know if it was through Malin's desires, or Dis's, that the supplies came, but he accepted them all the same.

* * *

Dis watched, as she had since first seeing the Storyteller walk over the rock, his steps sure, even when he seemed to stumble, as he walked over the foot of the mountain.

And like every evening since, as the sun sank below the horizon to give way for the moon, she watched as Bilbo, Master Storyteller, marched over and out of sight. She watched even when she could not see him and worried over him, and the faint smell of infection that she could also whiff when she was around him, though she is sure if she had Kili’s sharp eyes she would know where, exactly, the Smallest of All was injured.

“Mother?” a voice, familiar and warm, called and she smiled.

Think of veins and they will be uncovered.

“Yes Kili?” she responded, turning to him.

“What are you looking at?” he asked, carefully leaning next to her on the wall.

“A worry,” she answered and Kili frowned up at her in concern, forehead furrowed and a frown on his face.

She smiled and reached up, running a hand over his cheek before she smacked her forehead to his, gently due to the nasty cut still on his forehead.

“My son of the bow, you make me proud,” she stated in the tongue of Mahal and tapped his shoulder before she began to shove him inside.

Far below, in a shallow cave, Bilbo Baggins of the Shire, bit down, hard, on an empty waterskin, tears streaming down his face, as he tried to care for his injured side, his body shaking with agony and exhaustion.

Food was only staving off the inevitable for so long, and he knew, as surely as the sun would rise again tomorrow, that he would be unable to return to the children.

And, for the first time, Bilbo regretted meeting them.


	7. When Sting Glows Blue

Bilbo sighed lowly as he sat up, feeling hot and muggy, as if someone had boiled cotton, then stuffed it into his head. He swayed slightly and so he could be forgiven.

That he could be forgiven for not noticing, right off, that a blue glow was filling his shallow cave.

And when it registered, he let out a pained gasp, lifting Sting up, pulling it out slightly to stare at the glowing blue blade.

Through his mind flashed the faces, the  _Dwarves_ , that were the Family of his Heart. Both the ones he had travelled with on the road, and the ones he met here. The ones that he struggled out of his cave and over the rock to get to every day he could manage, when the heat and pain didn't overwhelm him. Even Malin, who he had known only briefly, wormed her way in, because she was Dis's and Gimli's Family of Blood (he believed; he wasn't sure), and there was room in his heart for one more.

Always, always, one more.

And so he slipped on his golden ring, and hauled himself out. In the shadowy realm the ring plunged him into, he saw the dark shapes of the orcs, and he was moving. Hauling himself up stone and over the mountain, despite his decision to stay in his shallow cave, letting himself slip into exhausted sleep and hopefully never wake again, leaving the children, and Dis, suddenly and without warning.

But he could not let the orcs slip in.

He gets to the part of the rock he uses to call down to the children when he spies Dis and the Children alone, or at least with those he does not recognize, a spot that his voice will carry.

And with all the strength he can summon up, he shouts, "Orcs!"

That is enough to get them swinging for him, but he's fast enough (somehow) to get out of the way.

He shouts more, skitters out of the way, into a small pocket of rocks he shouldn't be able to fit into, as the cries of Dwarves, their call to war, echoed through the air and, slowly, he rushed out. He ran through the battle and he heard the twang of a bow.

And then he was stumbling, a Dwarven arrow buried into his left shoulder. He let out a cry, clinging to his shoulder, keeping the arrow from moving, nearly dropping Sting, but he didn't.

Somehow.

He stumbled and then he fell into the little nook in the rocks, curled up as the battle raged, panting and in agony.

At a distance, Kili stared into the shadows.

He could have  _sworn_ that an arrow just disappeared into midair.

"Bilbo?" he questioned, though he was too far away to be heard by any except one, who flickered like golden flame at the corner of his eye.

"It can't be! His pack was gone!" Fili hissed, but Kili did not look away from the place where the arrow disappeared.

It seemed that, tomorrow, he and his brother were going hunting.

* * *

“What are you two doing, sneaking around?” Dis demanded and the brothers tensed from where they were attempting to sneak to the armory.

All morning both Dwalin and Balin had managed to keep them from wandering off, trying to keep them to the mountain, as if they knew they were planning something foolish. But Kili did not doubt his eyes come morning, and so Fili did not doubt Kili. The pair, who might as well have shared the womb for all that they acted like twins (considered a blessing of Mahal’s Wife, for she was the Lady of All Things Green and Growing) all their living days.

“We…we thought we saw something,” Fili stated.

“During the thwarted Orc Raid,” Kili stated.

“And the voice, too,” Fili added softly, while Kili nodded in agreement.

Dis stared at them and hummed a bit. “Well, then I can move it up a couple of days. Come with me to the kitchen, and I’ll tell you about our Master Storyteller,” Dis stated and they followed after her.

* * *

Kili was trotting ahead, with Gimli and Mita’s bowls when he saw a small form, sitting against the rock. His coat was a muddy blue, a familiar muddy blue, though it had more dark stains across it, and Kili is staring, still as a statue, before the bowls are falling from numb fingers as he runs forward, shouting, “Bilbo!”

“Kili!” Dis scolded, followed shortly by her going, “Fili!”

Kili, however, was at Bilbo first, unsure of where he could touch. Because Bilbo, his skin pale except for a flush to his cheeks, lips cracked and bleeding sluggishly while his curls were limp, and slumped over in sleep, should have responded.

He _always_ responded to the call of his name, no matter how deep asleep he was, no matter how curled up he was in his slumber.

Fili crashed down next to him, calling Bilbo’s name frantically and then Fili’s hands curled over Bilbo’s face, and Bilbo started awake, eyes fever bright. “Fili?” he cracked out, and some blood leaked out from cracking lips to dribble down his chin.

Fili just nodded weakly, unable to answer, but Bilbo just looked so _confused_ , trying to reach up, run a hand through Fili’s hair, like he did that one time when he was invisible and Fili was missing his brother, but he let out a soft cry, his left hand falling limply.

It is then that Kili sees the puncture and his nose catches a muffled scent of _disease_ and _sick_.

Kili leans forward, and Bilbo whimpers out Kili’s name, sounding still confused, but Kili is opening Bilbo’s Dwarven coat, a gift of Balin and Dwalin, to carefully open it, even as he lifted it off the short arrow shaft, one that Bilbo had quite possibly broken off himself, leaving the arrowhead imbedded. Sting was at his waist and…

“By Mahal,” Kili swore and Fili gave a far more fearsome oath.

For his side was a festering _mess_ and, vividly, Fili remembered what Kili could not, for he had been unconscious, unresponsive to the world around him while Fili internally panicked over the words that left the brave little Hobbit’s mouth.

_“I swear to you, Thorin son of Thrain son of Thror, King Under the Mountain, and Leader of the Company I followed out my door, that I shall never set foot in Erebor again.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I deviated from the prompt a little.
> 
> I think.
> 
> I am honestly not sure.


	8. Pride

Fili turned to Dis, who had already shooed the children away and turned. "Fili, get Bilbo inside, now!" Dis ordered.

"No!" Bilbo protested weakly, suddenly awake and no longer confused.

Somehow, some way, he fought Fili's arms, even as he clung tightly to Bilbo, trying to get him into his arms. "Why ever not?" Dis demanded.

"I can't, I can't! I swore...I swore it, and the King...I  _can't_ ," he protested weakly, though Kili looked confused a bit.

"Explain!" Dis demanded, even as Fili frowned at Bilbo's weakening struggles, though he continued to protest, continued to  _beg_ that they not save him.

Fili wanted to just curl over Bilbo and cry, cry over the Hobbit that refused to break an oath he had sworn, that Fili didn't understand  _why_ he swore. "I...Uncle Thorin banished him from Erebor. But...I don't know anything about an oath," Kili explained, as he focused on Bilbo, before he stared up at Fili, gently reaching out.

"Fee...you're crying," Kili stated, sounding so confused and Bilbo protested softly, trying to calm Fili down, but he just used Bilbo's distraction to get Bilbo firmly into his arms.

Which renewed Bilbo's weakening protests, his body no longer able to fight, whatever strength he had left focused on  _speaking_ instead of  _breathing_ and his  _heart beating._ "Bilbo, shush," Fili stated and Dis is staring at him.

"Mother," he began and he felt Bilbo tense, before whining lowly, as Fili stared at Bilbo.

"He swore to never enter Erebor again. I don't know why, but when Uncle...when Uncle told him to never return, Bilbo swore it as if his heart was breaking, as if...as if he deserved worse or something," Fili explained and Dis grabbed Fili's shoulders.

"What was the  _exact_ oath?" she demanded.

"Bilbo...Bilbo swore to never step foot in Erebor again," Fili stated and Dis stared, while Kili tried to smile.

"And we'll make sure he won't, Fee," Kili stated and Fili looked at him in confusion, while Bilbo relaxed.

Dis, however, was smiling with pride at Kili. "What do you mean?" Fili asked, while Bilbo seemed to relax.

"Bilbo won't  _step_ _foot_ into Erebor. He'll be  _carried_ into Erebor," Kili stated proudly and Fili beamed, standing easily as Bilbo renewed his protests, somehow.

Bilbo fought them as they rushed into Erebor, his final protest barely a breath just as they passed the great Dwarven statues that guarded the Gate.

The Hobbit was unconscious the minute Fili stepped into Erebor proper.

And behind them, Mita dogged their steps with an uncanny accuracy that would make her Cousin-Uncle proud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *skips around in a circle singing the loophole abuse song*
> 
> Loophole abuse, loophole abuse, how I love loophole abuse.
> 
> *is giggling madly and still skipping*
> 
> Also...I deserve lots of praise and love for not making you all wait at least 24 hours for this part.
> 
> Just saying.
> 
> I was kind and merciful today.


	9. Healing Tents (Graphic, SO VERY GRAPHIC, Medical Gore)

It was Kili who did the talking, and Kili who cleared the way to the tent that had once housed them. "Kili, what are you doing?" Nori demanded.

"Get Oin, and get him now!" Kili ordered as he checked the room to find it had an empty cot, that it was mostly for supply storage until the real Healing Hall opened, and Kili carefully lifted Ori out of the way as he tried to get Kili to talk and grabbed Fili.

"Bilbo?"

The voice, surprised and shaking lightly, was Dwalin's and Kili's head snapped over to see that Dwalin didn't need to see limp curls. He didn't need to see the feet, either, which were dirty and, in fact, in Fili's arms, was hard to see as being bigger than they ought to be.

No, he just needed to see the coat and beside him, Malin was standing there, eyes narrowed at Bilbo, and then she stepped forward and  _shoved_ at some of the Dwarves who were trying to get stop the pair. Her face was twisted into a fearsome snarl and Kili was properly fearful of her, especially when Dwalin stepped up. " _Move_ you pack of useless trainiees!" Dwalin shouted, his voice commanding and they scattered out of the way, even as Fili ducked in while Kili got the cot ready for Bilbo, not even thinking beyond it.

When Fili settled Bilbo down, Oin was there, with Gloin and a few others who rushed in, following Oin’s orders silently.

Fili and Kili stepped to the side, out of the way, before Malin had them both by the back of their collars and were dragging them away, and out of the room.

She deposited them before Dwalin, who stared down at them. “Explain,” Dwalin ordered.

“Mother ordered us,” they stated in stereo.

Malin leaning on them, obviously amused, said enough.

Dwalin nodded once and let his eyes slide to the tent.

* * *

Oin had Bilbo’s clothes, and items, stripped from him, as well as ordering they make sure every personal item that was on him was set out of reach, but in one spot that could easily be seen by the _constant guard_ Bilbo was going to have on him before he began to focus on getting Bilbo cleaned off.

Soft sounds of pain left Bilbo over everything and, despite the festering wound on his left side, there were other, smaller cuts, even on his feet (though luckily those on his feet weren’t infected). The apprentice healers scrubbed Bilbo, carefully, not questioning why Oin was shouting orders for their strongest medicines, why he was fighting so hard to save one small, strange, creature.

Oin warned them to hold him down, once everything was clean and, with their sharpest, cleanest, medical knife, he began to cut more at the wound, removing what could not be saved. He lost one of the more soft-hearted apprentices as they rushed out to get sick, and he ordered more advanced Healers available to get in _now_. They came, took one look at the situation, and were gone, even as Oin continued to work on cleaning out the worst of the pus filled mess.

Thick cleansers were poured over the wound, saturating the thick cloth the Princes had put over, and Oin silently thanked them, even as he continued to work and clean. When he glanced up, he wondered when so many apprentices had switched out, mostly going for ones who were about to graduate, hardened by the worst that was offered on the battlefield, and they were already helping Oin shift Bilbo so they could change the destroyed sheets, going to boil these as the sheets were replaced as quickly as they were changed, Oin grumbling his thanks as he continued to wash his hands when given a flannel, and then he was packing the poultice into the wound, and an apprentice was there.

And then the apprentice was bandaging Bilbo’s side and Oin was furious.

He stepped out to find the Company, minus Thorin, waiting. “Someone…” he began, but a small form suddenly darted forward.

Bofur lunged forward, but he heard Gloin’s shout of, “Mita!”

Oin twisted as the Dwarfling, Dwarfling _girl_ , dodged around him and raced into the tent. The girl stilled upon seeing Bilbo and Oin did not try to haul her out as the girl covered her lower face with her hands when she saw Bilbo.

Pale and sickly Bilbo on the healing cot, fever-flush on his cheeks, and the bandages across his side, who should _not_ have been!

Bilbo _knew_ , he had to have known, how dangerous that wound was. He was the one who hounded Thorin and made him sit down when no one else dared, and…

And did all that no one else would dare, in regards to Thorin, and he remembers the words Bilbo said, Thorin’s rage, and Oin thinks he might have to make Fili King Under the Mountain after all.

Because Mita hasn’t moved and he thinks she’s crying now.

Because Oin doesn’t know if he can save Bilbo.

He just knows that he can _try_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember, death of author means no more updates.
> 
> *hides in a bunker*


	10. Idiot Under the Mountain

" _ **Thorin!**_ You are a  _dead Dwarf_!" Dis shouted as she stormed into the side-room Thorin had been moved to to heal that was out of the way, easy to protect, and heavily guarded.

Not a single Guard moved at the threat, quailed under Dis's fury and the Healer at Thorin's side, who was not Oin, trembling slightly at the glare Dis had levelled at Thorin.

Distantly, Dis wondered where Oin was, but she had merely given the children over to Guards, leaving Gimli to count them. She had needed to get to Thorin, needed to beat her foolish and moronic big brother into the ground.

Thorin, who was standing, looked very confused.

Which made sense; she hadn't been this mad at him since she saw her sons.

Actually, she hadn't even been this mad _then._

They were on the mend, they were healing. They would  _live_ (and should probably still be resting).

 _They_ were not dying.

"Dis..." he began, but she wasn't in the mood to hear him and with a mighty swing, she punched Thorin right in the jaw.

He let out a startled grunt and hit the bed, before he slipped to the ground.

The Healer yelped and turned to Dis. "Lady Dis," the Healer protested, all dark hair and tanned skin, only to earn a dark glower.

"Leave," she ordered.

Dis was rather gleeful over the fact that, while the Healer was pulling back, isn't leaving. Dis would have to have this Healer moved to the Royal Healing Wings. Kili was worse than she when injured. "I do not care that you are his healer, you will leave of your own free will or being  _thrown out_ is that clear?" she snarled.

The Healer was gone and Dis whirled back around on Thorin, who was standing once more and holding his jaw.

She hoped it bruised. "You! You...I should kill you where you stand! I should grab you and throw you over the wall! I should break every bone in your body with the precision that would make the old Spymaster wince with pity!" she snarled, all fury and barely restrained fratricide.

"How  _could you_?" she added.

"Do  _what_?" he demanded and she punched him again.

He hit the bed and ground once more and she glared. "You had  _fourteen_ members of your Company! You had  _fourteen_! Where is the fourteenth?” she demanded.

“He left for the home he missed the day I banished him!” Thorin stated.

“Did he?” Dis asked, voice cold.

Thorin stared at her. “I am sure I’ve told you of the children’s Master Storyteller,” she stated and Thorin nodded.

“I never described him, because he was always so nervous and jumpy. Wouldn’t come inside, despite the smell of sickness that clung to him, though I only noticed because I was so used to it. I called him a Dwarf, despite the fact I knew he wasn’t, even if he wore a blue, mud, and worse, splattered Dwarven coat,” she stated and watched Thorin’s eyes go from confused to understanding.

He paled as they did so. “He has curly hair and warm eyes. He spoke of a place with that desperate longing of someone who knew he would never see it again. A place of rolling green hills and peace. A place that his ancestors found and made, maybe even lied about the finding of it,” she stated, her voice cold and cutting.

“He gave a name, just one. ‘Bilbo’ and took to being called Master Storyteller like a Dwarf took to a mountain. As time wore on, I watched him deteriorate, yet still he climbed over the foot of the mountain, every day, most likely from wherever he slept at night, in the cold, with no supplies, while he burned with fever,” she continued, watching the way Thorin shook, now sitting on his bed.

“He took the broth I gave him thankfully and disappeared whenever I brought up Erebor, but accepted bandages I had Malin give him. She wanted to grab him and carry him in. I have a feeling Nori is going to conscript her to his way of life, much to Dwalin’s horror, I am sure, because she kept signing _fourteen_ , and now I know why! The fact she didn’t tell Balin, or Dwalin, says she knew more than _I_ did! Now, I have had him carried in! Fili was _in tears_ , Kili had to be the strong one, and I am sure, by now, the Company has discovered that Bilbo of the Green Lands to the West is _dying_ from injuries he refused to have seen to because all help was within Erebor! So, Thorin, son of Thrain, _Idiot_ Under the Mountain, what are you going to do about it?” she demanded lowly, finding herself glaring down a pale and shaking Thorin.


	11. Through a Thief's Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dedicate this chapter to [Greenkangaroo](../../../users/greenkangaroo/pseuds/greenkangaroo) and the wonderful stories that involve Nori.
> 
> Because they are beautiful and inspired this chapter with Nori the most.

Nori took up the spot of sitting next to Bilbo as the rest of the Company comforted Mita (who was in her father’s arms outside of the tent) and talked about what to do. Nori, supposed, he should be there, but thieves had to stick together and Bilbo was one of the most honest ones he had ever met.

His fingers were weaving threads together as he thought about Bilbo.

He had the quiet nature of a thief, though he was far too honest. Then again, that would make him an invaluable ally in the Hidden World, if he ever continued such a life.

Nori thought about the life Bilbo could have, as an honest thief, because it kept him from thinking about how pale Bilbo was, under thick furs. Because then he didn’t have to face the possibility of Bilbo not wakening, as he continued to tie his thread until he found he had made a Thief’s Lamp. “You used greens this time,” Ori stated and Nori glanced over at him in surprise.

He hadn’t heard him come in, but he could hear the conversation continuing.

He was holding a sleeping Mita, who was clinging to his cardigan and Nori nodded before he carefully took Bilbo’s wrist out from under the covers and tied it on, the Thief’s Lamp in shades of green, like the Shire he had come from, hung from his wrist, and then Nori was carefully tucking Bilbo’s wrist away again, out of sight.

Only then did the commotion reach his ears.

“Oin, no!” was the only clear sentence Nori heard, but that was enough to have him knowing who, exactly was outside the tent.

Thorin, King of Durin’s Folk, was here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Oh, to flip if I know how this stuff writes itself.
> 
> I also have no clue why it is so short.
> 
> I am so sorry!


	12. Apologies to the Sleeping

Dwalin barely had time to catch Oin as he launched at Thorin. As it was, one of Oin's fists barely missed Thorin's nose and the only reason it _did_ was due to the fact that Dis had actually tugged Thorin back. "Oin, no!" Gloin shouted, and that was the only way Dwalin knew that they had something else going on.

"I won't let him throw our Burglar out! He  _banished_ the lad, and I won't let it happen!" Oin growled out and Dwalin saw both Fili and Kili slip into the tent as well, while Dwalin fought to keep Oin from launching himself at Thorin.

For, as much as he loved his King, as his shield-brother and king, it was taking all of Dwalin's self-control not to just let his hands slip. "I am not here to throw him out, Oin," Thorin stated and that caused Oin to relax.

"Why are you here?" Oin demanded.

"To apologize to someone I have severely wronged," Thorin answered and Oin gave a snort.

"Bit hard to do that," he grumbled.

Thorin waited and Oin gave a snort. "Bilbo is out. He was unconscious when Fili and Kili brought him in, which did none of  _their_ injuries any good. But, what he needs is a private room that we can keep warm, hang up the incense lamps, and do what we can," Oin stated.

Thorin paled slightly and Dis's hand snapped forward to support Thorin at his back. "What do you mean?" Thorin asked and Oin huffed a bit before he waved everyone in, though he obviously wanted to keep them out.

When they stepped in, Fili and Kili were standing like a shield in front of Bilbo's cot, but Oin made Thorin sit down, then eyed Ori, who was still holding Mita. "Out," Oin ordered, and Ori suddenly focused on Mita, as if he hadn't heard Oin at all.

"Dwalin, remove the children...all  _four_ of them," Oin ordered and Fili and Kili immediately put up a fuss.

"No! We have to keep Uncle from Bilbo!" Fili protested, even as Dwalin scruffed them.

"He won't  _touch_ Bilbo, I promise it to you," Dis stated, even as Dwalin dumped them outside the tent, followed closely by Ori, who was still holding Mita, though very carefully, then shut the tent tightly behind him.

Then Dwalin waited and Oin sighed.

"His side is a breeding pit of infection and, if that doesn't kill him, the fever that is clinging to him might. He needs to be someplace warm, and we need to hang the incense lamps. And even if I use every trick I know, even if I work constantly and have other Healers add in their own, and force willow bark tea down his throat...it might not be enough to save him," Oin explained.

Silence fell over the tent at the announcement and Thorin stood up slowly, eyes finding Bilbo, despite the entire Company, minus three and plus one, practically hiding him and then Thorin turned to Dwalin.

"The room will be cleared within the hour," Dwalin promised.

* * *

Fili and Kili had to be restrained by some Healers to keep them from carrying Bilbo to the warmer room, though no one knew where Ori or Mita had gotten to, leading Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur to begin searching through Erebor.

“Walk _this_ way,” Mita hissed at Ori as she led him through one of the back ways, following after Dori and Nori, who were carrying Bilbo, Thorin a majestic King following after them, eyes staring unseeing at Bilbo.

“I think they’re moving Master Storyteller to the room near the King,” she whispered softly.

“His name is Bilbo,” Ori corrected quietly.

“Master. Storyteller,” Mita insisted and they quickly scuttled across the hallway to the next swirl of shadow, Mita huddling against the wall, along with Ori. The door was opened and Mita darted forward at their heels, slipping in, while Ori bit back a groan.

Mita was an _expert_ in sneaking around.

However, the only reason Ori had issues was due to the fact that he was taller.

“Mita!” he heard Nori shout and Ori groaned before he hurried in to find that Mita had managed to dodge _Nori_ , and then was up and next to Bilbo, on his uninjured side, her head coming to rest on his bare shoulder.

And the minute her head touched his shoulder, Bilbo’s eyes snapped open in a fevered daze.


	13. Words of Comfort

When Bilbo's eyes snapped open, Nori didn't hesitate.

He grabbed Thorin by the back of his coat and hauled the King behind himself.

Just in time, in fact, because Bilbo looked around, slightly panicked, and would have seen Thorin, which would have been _bad_ , had Nori not moved him. However, Mita didn't seem to notice Bilbo's panic, which was slightly frightening as Nori could remember a few key times when he had to duck Bifur's erratic swings when the brain damaged Dwarf had been in a panic.

No, instead, the fearless she-dwarfling stared down at Bilbo as if she had just performed some great trick. "Master Storyteller!" she greeted and Nori watched, in slight fear and shock, as Bilbo's hand on his injured side rose and carefully cradled Mita's head.

"Mita...you're okay," Bilbo muttered, fingers running along one of her braids, which seemed to have a femmine touch, suggesting either Lady Dis or Malin had decided to start playing with the little one's hair.

"Of course I am! Why wouldn't I be?" Mita returned, sounding so very confused and Nori, now, forced his eyes away to look around the room, silently surprised to see Ori in the room, but out of the way.

He had taught his little brother well.

A movement had him looking at the door, where he saw the dark hair of Malin flitting away as well and resisted the urge to whistle in appreciation, while Bilbo seemed to struggle for words.

_Note to self; get Ori and Malin into my web of informants and spies. Start training Mita for eventual entry; might have to do this all behind everyone's backs. Pray to Mahal that Dwalin never finds out and guts me for putting his baby sister in danger. Pray to Mahal that Dori never finds out Ori is on my payroll, in addition to working in the library. Pray to Mahal Bifur never puts two to two together about Mita and hunt me down. He would succeed and kill me._

"You woke me up. What's wrong Mita?" Bilbo managed to get out and Mita carefully buried her head into his neck.

"You're hurt. You're not supposed to be hurt. You're our storyteller!"

Bilbo let out a soft laugh and answered, "I was a burglar first, Mita."

He then disolves into speaking in some language that Nori doesn't know and Mita giggles softly. "You're speaking in Green Tongue again," she stated and Bilbo let out a weak laugh.

"So I am," Bilbo murmurred quietly.

There was silence and Bilbo is, somehow, still awake. He's got his arm on the uninjured side free and has settled the other on the top of his furs. He seems confused, but Mita is holding onto Bilbo, carefully. "Master Storyteller?" she questioned.

"Yes Mita?"

"Can you sing that song again?"

"Which one?"

Mita whined. "The  _one_. The pretty one I like!" she protested.

"Oh... _that_ one. I think I can manage," Bilbo answered and his eyes closed, his hand running comforting over her hair.

 _“In the Age of the Lights, before Life was First Sung,_  
_There was a Lady all in Green,_  
_Who had a smile that could light up the sky._  
_Grass followed her train,_  
_And flowers sprung in her footsteps,_  
_And as she spun across the World,_  
_She laughed  so brightly,_  
_Smiling as if there was nothing wrong at all._

_“As she spun and danced alone,  
There was one who watched from afar._

_“One who had loved her from the moment he first saw her smile,  
Who first saw her when she had called a flower up from the mountainside._

_“At first, he had been angry, but his anger stilled,_  
_For her smile was fairer than all else he had seen,_  
_Under her fields so green._

_“And it was then that the Stone King,  
Knew he was in love with the Lady in Green._

_“He knew not how to charm her,_  
_He knew not how to woo her._  
_He only knew that he had to have her._

 _“And so the Stone King followed,_  
_And so the Stone King wondered,_  
_And always, always, he watched her._

 _“One day, he returned to his Mountain_  
_And he carefully stoked the fires,_  
_And he mined the gold,_  
_And he mind the copper,_  
_And he carefully crafted a flower_  
_A flower of metal and gems._

 _“He then crossed over ground,_  
_Thinking only of her,_  
_And when he found her_  
_Spinning and smiling away,_  
_All there was, was her,_  
_In her field of green._

 _“And he called out to her,_  
‘I know not how or why,  
But if I can have you today,  
I would ask for no more of you.’

 _“And she smiled at him,_  
_And with a voice so light,_  
_She called out to him,_

“‘I would ask no more,  
Nor any less.  
For no being of the sun  
Could live under the mountain.

"‘But if I could,  
I would spend each hour  
In your cold tower,  
With you.’

 _“And the Stone King smiled_  
_And gave her the flower he made,_  
_The flower of coppery-gold and jewels._

 _“And she took the flower made,_  
_And carefully braided it in._  
_And so the Lady of Green_  
_Married the Stone King.”_

Bilbo’s voice trailed off and Oin sighed in relief. “He’s asleep,” he muttered.

Nori shook himself a bit and then pointed. “So is Mita,” he pointed out and crossed the room.

“I’ll leave you three to pack up,” Nori stated, quietly shoving Ori, who was still like stone, while grabbing Malin.

He needed to talk with the pair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hobbits once wandered, without a home.
> 
> It is ingrained that, when children tackle them, they wake up.
> 
> (Bilbo did fudge a bit. They were placed in one place and they were driven out, but he was telling the shiny-happy-fairy tale version for the children. In the book, he left because of the song, and that song struck a cord because he's heard the Real Tales by now. The Thain told them to him, and such. Flipping secretive Hobbits are complicated.)
> 
> Anyway, the song he sings...I wrote.
> 
> Please be kind.


	14. Long Are the Days

It took a week for Oin to realize that he did not have the skill to save Bilbo Baggins.

It was an hour after the discovery that Oin sent a raven off to find Gandalf the Gray.

And then he waited.

* * *

Dis kept a watch over Bilbo, who was in a half-sitting position in his private room of healing, wearing a _very_ loose tunic to hide how bad his injuries were, as the children settled next to the bed, on the uninjured side.

For once it was _not_ Mita who had laid claim to cuddling with Bilbo, but Nanta. His head was pillowed against Bilbo’s shoulder, and he was already half-asleep, Bilbo’s hand idly rubbing the young Dwarfling’s back.

Bilbo’s voice was strong and unwavering, even as his body slowly failed him.

Dis wanted to scratch Thorin’s eyes out, but his guilt was doing far more to Thorin than anything she could ever do. So, instead of watching the little ones, she kept watch on Bilbo, gauging when she would need to herd them out, and she looked over when the door opened quietly.

She found herself looking at Gandalf. She gave a polite nod before she pressed a finger to her lips and turned to focus back on Bilbo.

The tale he was telling was one he had told the children before (of great spiders that spoke and fangs that paralyzed, and how if _only_ they had never strayed from the path, it all could have been avoided and Dis will be having _words_ with Thorin later).

“Do you have any new stories?” Nanta mumbles, once it is over.

“Always,” Bilbo answered softly.

“I want to hear a new story,” Nanta whispered.

“A new story? Oh…I think I can find one, rolling about in my head,” Bilbo answered.

The children settled as Bilbo thought, his fingers tapping lightly against Nanta’s spine before he nodded.

“Back when the Green Lady’s Own were a wandering sort, they found their way to a mountain…” Bilbo began before he trailed off.

“Oh…I think…I think I’ll have to tell this story tomorrow, little ones. I am suddenly quite tired,” Bilbo stated, and they whined a bit, but rushed out at Dis’s herding.

“Bilbo?” she called softly.

“Oin…I think I need Oin,” Bilbo confirmed.

“Oin will be most helpful, Lady Dis. But I am sure Bilbo Baggins and I have much to discuss in the meantime,” Gandalf cut in and Bilbo blinked over at him, before he smiled at Gandalf.

It was a small smile, but it was there.

Thorin, Dis was sure, would be pleased.

When she returned, it was to Gandalf puffing sedately on his pipe while Bilbo slept, his side exposed, and with poison streaks curling under his skin. Oin cursed and began to work on pulling out stronger poultices. “I take it you can do nothing?” Oin snapped.

“It is beyond my power to heal. I am not a healer, I am a Wizard. A Wizard with only certain powers. I cannot wave my staff and make him all better, no matter how much I may wish to. I suspect that he is in this state because of Thorin’s stupidity as well as his own,” Gandalf responded.

“From what I can gather? Yes,” Dis answered and then frowned.

“He swore to Thorin, he made an oath, that he would never step foot in Erebor again,” Dis stated.

Gandalf sighed softly. “He would. He feels very guilty over his theft of the Arkenstone, in hopes of bringing peace. Bilbo does not forgive himself, and would not ask Thorin to forgive him, though I have no doubt he has long forgiven Thorin. Most likely he kept to the mountain instead of attempting the journey to the Shire,” Gandalf murmured and glanced up as the door opened, letting Bombur into the room.

He was carrying a tray filled with mugs, and he carefully settled the tray on the side table. He paused and then looked at Bilbo. Dis watched as Bombur began to reach out and settled Bilbo’s curls out of his face, quietly fussing, before he settled back. “Well, you got me to talk. Should have known it was you when I learned that Mita was chattering. She hates chattering to adults,” Bombur stated and let out a low sigh before he headed out, with only a quiet nod to both Dis and Gandalf, showing he knew they were there all the time.

Dis was not upset by his lack of attention to them.

She had long learned that Bombur was a quiet Dwarf, who was content in his life as it was, only going on the journey because he had so many mouths to feed. She had no doubt a fourth would be on the way soon, now that they could relax about the need to watch their number of children.

Having three, while being practically chaste (she and Lota spoke far too often, honestly), spoke well of their family lines.

Dis hoped Mahal wished them many daughters.

“You helped him into sleep?” Dis asked.

“I thought it for the best,” Gandalf answered.

Dis nodded a bit. “Who can help our Master Storyteller?” Dis questioned.

“I know only of one,” Gandalf stated and Dis raised an eyebrow at him, earning a soft chuckle. “Lord Elrond of Rivendell. He is the best healer I know.”

Dis nodded and turned sharply. “Please retrieve him. I shall warm my brother to the idea,” Dis stated.

Gandalf nodded and, as Dis neared the door, Gandalf added, almost cheerfully, “If it helps, Thandruil _despises_ Elrond.”

Dis smirked and nodded, before leaving quickly.

An hour later, while she mentally prepared herself, she heard of the Gray Wizard’s leaving.

Good.

With Gandalf _gone_ , that meant Thorin would have no choice but to let Elrond into his halls.

She’d just have to _beat_ the acceptance of the situation into him if she had to.

Right after she got the whole and unvarnished truth from the only one who would give it.

* * *

“Lady Dis,” Ori squeaked when she loomed out of the shadows.

“Ori, brother of Dori. May I have a word?” she inquired calmly.

This Dwarf, who had faced goblins and wargs, and orcs, and even the _Defiler himself_ , swallowed and shook before her, nodding fiercely. “Anything, Lady Dis,” he managed to choke out.

Yes, she would _definitely_ be getting the unvarnished truth from this one.


	15. Where There is a Will (Medical Gore! YAY! Also...Filler...sorry)

Oin winced as he cleaned out Bilbo's side.

Oin had long since had a cot moved into Bilbo's room, transferring his patient to it whenever it was time to clean out his side so the bed didn’t get stained with the infection.

He was careful as he could be, though Bilbo was still being held down by Nori and one of the apprentices while Oin focused on the Hobbit. "Oin," Dis called, though Oin barely heard her (and he had to glance back to make sure).

"Lady Dis," he responded calmly and waved at Nori, who nodded and focused on Dis while helping to keep Bilbo from kicking anyone on accident.

Like words through water. Muffled and muddled, but the outrage on the apprentice's face suggested that they were dicussing something to do with elves. This particular apprentice (Surem) would not bat an eye to anything, except elves. Glancing at Nori's face, it was...

"What are you saying about the Mirkwood Elves?" Oin demanded, even as he finished up cleaning out Bilbo's side, wincing as more pus was forced out. There was a full bodied shudder that had the apprentice, and Nori, focusing entirely on the Hobbit and Oin would have chuckled (he remembered how surprised he had been by the Hobbit's strength when he had to remove a thorn from Bilbo's ankle during the Quest, the ankle being ripped out and nearly being kicked in the face, Bilbo apologizing profusely over and over again and promising to try and keep still this time).

He felt his ear trumpet slipped into his ear and Dis's voice said, "Bilbo has Thranduil's favor. We need someone to keep Bilbo alive until Lord Elrond gets here. And, for that, we need Elf Healers. But convincing Thorin to let them in, even with his guilt, is going to be impossible, especially since the weed-eater is going to gloat about it."

Oin scowled a bit at that and sighed. "Probably best. Bilbo's will to live will only carry him so far," Oin agreed, even as he began to pack a stronger poultice in, frowning over how _hot_ and _dry_ Bilbo’s skin felt under his fingers.

Dis removed the ear horn and Oin gave his nod of thanks.

With a quiet order to the apprentice, he stepped back, allowing the two who could hear each other move Bilbo shifted to the stretcher once more on an unheard, to Oin, count.

Once Bilbo was returned to his bed, Oin dressed Bilbo back into the over-sized tunic that had a slit in the side so he could easily check on the bandages. He tucked Bilbo in, carefully and placed the back of his fingers against Bilbo’s forehead before he carefully took Bilbo’s hand in his.

He pinched the skin gently and winced at how slowly it returned to normal. And there was Thorin, suddenly, at his side.

Oin focused on him and he sighed, internally, over how _helpless_ Thorin looked.

It was the sight of Nori yanking Thorin back, scrambling and almost _panicked_ that told Oin Bilbo was returning to consciousness over any sound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a filler chapter because I needed something to bridge lots of Elf Magic, Hand-Waving Healing.
> 
> Especially since they've got to combat the fever.
> 
> Fun.


	16. Fever Dreams (Nightmares, Vomiting, Medical Unpleasantness)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't updated in a while. Forgive me?

The fever dreams set in later that night.

Bilbo woke, screaming and begging for forgiveness, that he was sorry, so sorry, that he hadn't meant to do any harm, he just wanted to save them, that he was  _sorry_ and Nori, for the first time, wishes he was as deaf as Oin, because that would mean that he wouldn't have to hear this. Wouldn't have to hear someone so kind-hearted, who had never killed before joining the on this Quest that then proceeded to take  _everything_ from the Hobbit in the end, beg for forgiveness from someone they had done it all for.

But Nori pushes his discomfort down and runs soothing hands through Bilbo's hair and over his face, trying to get Bilbo to calm down. Between soothing words, he turns and shouts for someone, anyone, to get a healer  _now_ , Mahal curse them all if they don't get one!

He tries to calm a sobbing Bilbo down, who is still begging to be forgiven, and Nori knows it is not  _his_ voice, a thief's voice, that Bilbo needs to hear promising forgiveness, because he doesn't think that Bilbo is even seeing him, eyes distant bright even as he stares directly up at Nori. "Someone get Thorin!" he adds, because Bilbo is driving himself into a fit and Nori winces as the begging gives way to slight gagging.

Nori doesn't hesitate (because Ori used to get sick a lot when he was younger and Nori knows how to do this), just helps get the burning furnace of a Hobbit upright and over a bucket. The minute he is up, Bilbo vomits up everything that is in his stomach, which isn't much, and Nori worries. Bilbo coughs pathetically into the bucket, more acidic vomit slipping out past his lips and into the bucket between his begging, and pleading and tears.

All of which Bilbo _cannot_ afford to lose right now.

He's very thankful when the healer gets there, even if it is not Oin, and shortly after Thorin rushed into the room, dressed only in a loose tunic and dark trousers, his feet bare and hair unbraided, a wild mane around his head. "What's going on?" Thorin asked, his voice deep and rumbling.

If Nori didn't know his King, he would not believe that Thorin was worried, for Thorin's voice is steady, and unshaking, as if he was just demanding a report on a sturdy wall.

And the minute Bilbo hears it, he stops thrashing and crying out for forgiveness and seems to hunch over more, as if someone has placed a mountain on his shoulders (and they had, once upon a time, put a mountain there).

No, the crying became whimpering, still (and for always, Nori is sure) for forgiveness, his voice taking that thin vein of begging that Nori's hasn't heard since they were mad with gold fever, and he was begging for them to please, _please_ just _listen_ and Nori shoves his thoughts into the present. "He's feverish, he's scared, and he's begging for forgiveness, and it isn't _me_ he  _needs_ to hear it from," Nori stated, even as the healer (Nori thinks it might be Gloin's wife, but he's not sure) tries to soothe Bilbo back from his fit, but he's dry heaving now, and in no way calming down.

Thorin hesitates and then he crosses the room.

He is gently as he places callused hands on Bilbo's face. His thumbs carefully clear tear trails and ease Bilbo into looking unseeingly into his own eyes. "I forgive you Bilbo Baggins," he rumbled out softly, still rubbing his thumbs comfortingly along the cheekbones under Bilbo's eyes.

"Truly?" Bilbo gasped out.

"Truly, my burglar," Thorin stated.

The tears probably didn't help Bilbo's fevered state, but he's awake and calm(er), so the healer gives Thorin the mug of willow bark tea, while she begins to busy herself with everything else, hissing lowly when she inspects Bilbo's side, Thorin focused on coaxing the tea through Bilbo's lips.

Nori bends down and reels back at the stench that comes through the bandages. "I'll get Oin," Nori stated and headed for the door.

He paused and looked back at the healer. "If Bilbo starts thrashing and begging Thorin not to kill him, send Thorin to fetch Bofur and Ori," Nori advised and then ran off.

It was on his run that Malin suddenly appeared at his side. He glanced over and stopped dead at what she signed to him.

"She went  _where_?" Nori asked.

 _"Lady Dis went to go call in the debt Thranduil owes Bilbo. She got_ ** _everything_** _from Ori, as did I. Really, he's horrible when being faced with women-folk. You need to fix that,"_ Malin signed.

"That's what I'll assign you to do. In the meantime, get Dwalin and send him after Dis, because she should not be leaving the mountain. Next, get Balin and send him to Bibo's chambers. Thorin needs all the support he can get," Nori ordered and Malin gave a sarcastic salute before she rushed to do as ordered while Nori hurried to Oin's rooms.

If things kept spiraling out of control for Bilbo, their burglar wouldn't live to see Elrond enter the Lonely Mountain.

(And the forgiveness that Thorin so longed for would never be granted.)


	17. Interlude with Dis

"Dwalin, if you wish to stop me, you'll have to hamstring me," Dis warned as Dwalin pulled up to be equal to her on one of the sturdy mountain ponies brought from the Blue Mountains.

On the other side, her guard looked about ready to try and see if he could make Dis turn back. "Thorin will never let Thranduil into his kingdom," Dwalin stated.

"I don't need him, I need the healers that are within his little palace that, oh,  _Dwarves_  helped him build. It is in the old records. In  _fact_ , back when Erebor was first settled, there was a strong alliance running from Erebor, through Dale, to the, then, Greenwood. Once upon a time, all three Races stood together and grew together and grew strong together. When Erebor fell, the Elves abandoned us, offered us no aid, not even in distance, not even with mounts, or protection in exile to at least another mountain, they hurt not only themselves, but the Men as well. And Laketown grew into ruin and the Greenwood grew dark, and Thranduil has only himself to blame for it, and deep down I think the stubborn king knows that. And if he doesn't, well, he can't be any worse than Thorin," Dis stated with a sniff and Dwalin growled lowly at the realization that Dis was going to get the help...whether Thranduil wished to give it or not.

"At this rate, we'll have to hold off another seige," Dwalin muttered lowly.

"What did you say?" Dis asked.

He repeated himself and Dis snorted. "Hardly. That was Thorin being stupid. The Men have their money, the Elves have been paid, and their injured are taken, their dead buried, and they've returned to Mirkwood. Now, how fast can we travel there and back?" Dis prodded and Dwalin began to recite off the best path from memory, taking over the role as guide and protector to Dis once more.

It was one he was familiar with, after Moria, after Thorin became King far too quickly, putting Dis into far more danger than before.

It was one he had not held since his job was taken over by another guard, though not the one that rode with them now. "You hog-tied Bor and left him behind, didn't you?" Dwalin questioned.

"Hamstring Dwalin. Hamstring," Dis stated and they picked up speed as the distant lights of a camp came into view.

* * *

"What do you mean we can't come through Bard?" Dis demanded the next morning, the three packed for their journey to Mirkwood, and Bard, Dragon-Slayer, trying to keep them.

Dwalin didn't try to help either party, Dis's voice getting sharp and, instead, found a raven. He eyed Dwalin, and hopped onto the offered hand. "Do you know Nori, son of Haddri?" he questioned lowly and the raven nodded loftly.

"Will you deliever a message for me to him?"

The raven nodded once more.

Quiet sort, and Dwalin said, "Lady Dis can only be stopped through being hamstringed and, as I wish to live, and Bard won't be able to stop her, we shall return at the end of the week, at best, with Mirkwood Elf Healers."

The raven quietly repeated the words and took off with a flare of black feathers. Dwalin shook his head a bit, sure that Nori was going to be seen with a raven perched on his shoulder from now on, and mounted up onto his pony's back. Dis gave him a look, but turned and began to ride past a shell-shocked looking Bard.

The guard followed and Dwalin paused only to give the best apology he was able. "There is nothing that can stand between Dis and her destination, especially when she cares deeply for the one she is riding for."

And then he rushed ahead to catch up with Dis.

She, like Thorin, had no sense of direction and it wouldn't do for them to get lost before they ever reached Mirkwood.

* * *

When they had reached the edge of Mirkwood, the ponies all balked and snorted, before Dwalin gave a low snort and soothed his own mount, leading the way in on foot. The pony locked his knees, about to resist, before he nickered lowly and quickly followed after Dwalin instead, Dis and the guard with their ponies following shortly thereafter.

He walked near silently through the forest, his pony snorting nervously as they went farther into the darkness, trembling lightly, but Dwalin is calm and gentle with the pony, carefully easing his fears away until he is steady and calm once more. “How do we get to the palace?” Dis asked.

“Ask him,” Dwalin stated, pointing up.

There was an obvious rustling and the Elf who had insulted Gloin’s wife dropped down. “Master Dwalin, I was on my way to Erebor to express my apologies to Master Gloin in person. What do you need?” the Elf asked.

“What did you do?” Dis asked.

“He insulted Himia,” Dwalin offered.

“And you still stand? I am amazed,” Dis responded.

“They were just injured by spiders. I feel that is the sole reason why an ax was not slammed into my head. No less than I deserved,” the Elf answered and Dis sighed.

“Why can’t you be the King?” Dis muttered and the Elf let out a low cough of amusement.

“King Thranduil will be most…interested to see you. I’ll guide you to there in safety. It will take a couple of days,” he stated.

“I don’t follow anyone I don’t know the name of,” Dis called.

The elf paused and turned around before he gave a deep bow. “Legolas, at your service, Lady Dis.”

“Knowledgeable little weed-eater, isn’t he?” the guard muttered.

Dwalin felt he earned the punch from Dis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I needed the, slightly cracky, fluff. Because Dis knows she can't hurry travel, not without killing the ponies, and that would take twice as long in the end, so she's just going to pick fights and Legolas decided to just drop in and I am so sorry over all of that.


	18. The Fever Climbs (A Filler)

Nori glanced over as the door to Bilbo's door opened and he sighed when he saw Mita there. "Mita, you can't come in," Nori stated and Mita glowered at him.

"Papa  _said_ I could," Mita argued and Nori glared before he focused back on Bilbo, who was thrashing in another fever nightmare.

He would not, could not, call them dreams, because dreams would give Bilbo relief and their little Burglar (the children's Master Storyteller) finds none. Nori carefully changes the cloth and starts a bit when Bilbo's eyes open. The words that stream from his mouth are ones Nori can't understand, but they slip from Bilbo's lips far more easily then Common, fast and furious, and Nori glances over to see Mita has settled on the chair next to Bilbo's bed.

"Mita," he stated.

"I am staying," she returned and he sighed before he focused on Bilbo.

He doubted the child could understand Bilbo any better than he could. "It won't be pretty," Nori warned.

"I was there during my youngest brother's birth.  _That_ wasn't pretty. This is reassuring," Mita retorted.

Nori chuckled lowly and focused on trying to help get some liquid into Bilbo's stomach, but in the end he's not a healer and it is Oin (and Bofur) who get more water (and medicine and tea) down his throat between streams of a language none of them understand.

Nori hopes Bilbo will teach it to him later, because knowing an unknown language can be helpful in the spying buisness, and he just tries to bring Bilbo's fever down. They fight the fever as it climbs and he does not hesitate to say, "Dori, get Mita out of here, kicking feet or not."

She screams and cries and fights, and  _that_ gets Bilbo thrashing, snarling with rage, and shouting in whatever tongue he's trapped in, fighting the hands, fighting their voices, reaching for Mita. And Mita kicks more, fighting, and shouting in Khuzdul, and suddenly she's out of Dori's arms and clambers up onto Bilbo's sick bed, only making sure to keep from hurting him and she clings to him.

And Bilbo falls into a fevered sleep, still and quiet, his breathing labored, and Mita's tear-streaked face disappears into Bilbo's shoulder.

They do not try to move her again, not by force anymore.

(It is Bifur that convinces her to come home, and it is Bifur who brings her back the next day, staying as Mita fearlessly curls against Bilbo.)

(Bifur leaves a carved figure of a dragon with spikes down the back and wings unflurled on the bedside table when he carefully leads Mita back home.)

Nori doesn't say anything as this becomes the new norm as Nori waits for Dis's return, a raven usually found on his shoulder, running the slowly growing spynetwork from a sick room.

No one even twitches when the new Royal Scribe visits the sick room. Everyone knows Ori is Nori's little brother and that he's always admired his elder brother.

(What everyone _doesn't_  know is that he spends most of that time sitting next to Bilbo, knitting, while he tells Bilbo about his day.)

(Nori doesn't mind.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, I am sorry.
> 
> The next few chapters are probably not going to have Bilbo, however, because now we get to focus on Erebor.
> 
> (Yay.)


	19. Freezing Water and Mirkwood Elves

“Careful. Once he touches the water, he’s going to thrash,” Oin warned as Nori and Dori carefully lifted Bilbo up from the cot to where the tub of cold water waited, Nori feeling as if he was being branded by the fever that rolled off of Bilbo’s skin, as if he pulled Bilbo away and looked at his neck, where Bilbo’s forehead pressed, he would find a burn.

Nori couldn’t stop himself from hissing lowly as the cold water bit into his skin as he lowered Bilbo into the freezing cold tub and, as Oin warned, the moment Bilbo touched the water, he began to panic, eyes wide and unseeing, the language Mita called ‘the Green Tongue’ spilling from his lips in obvious pleadings. But Nori and Dori just kept lowering the Hobbit into the freezing cold water until only his head was above the water, Nori and Dori with their arms nearly submerged up to their shoulders.

Bilbo’s fever had gotten too high and this was their last option.

But that didn’t stop Nori from wincing over how broken sobs ripped their way out, begging in a language they didn’t understand spilling out and echoing through the converted chamber of healing.

Dori, however, just held onto Bilbo almost dispassionately, only his pained eyes giving away his dislike of the situation, of the wish that there was another option, and Nori felt that it was Ori’s poor health in his youth (and the reason Nori became a thief by trade) that allowed Dori his distance.

Oin was sitting next to the tub on a stool and was using a wet cloth to pat Bilbo’s face with, the obvious pleading holding no sway over the healer either. Instead, he convinced Bilbo to swallow some tea, between pleadings and tears.

It wasn’t until Bilbo began shivering did they pull him out of the water, Oin patting the deep, infected, gash dry, while Nori and Dori dried Bilbo off roughly, Nori hissing lowly when he saw where Kili’s arrowhead (not that they told the Prince) had been removed was red with infection..

“It infected?” Oin asked as he carefully helped to get Bilbo redressed, muttering lowly in that tongue of his.

“Yes,” Nori answered and Oin sighed as he began to dab ointment onto the infection before he pulled the modified tunic over Bilbo’s torso.

“Dori, get the Healers. And see if we can keep Mita and Ori out of here,” Oin stated.

Nori grit his teeth at that.

Mita and Ori would stay out only upon the removal of Bilbo.

And the only way Bilbo was moving was for sun.

Or for worse reasons.

* * *

The Elves of Mirkwood came, trailing politely behind Dis and Dwalin, the third guard trailing after the healers.

There is a private argument between King and Princess, one that none are privy to except the two of them, the quietest argument that has ever passed between the pair of them, and when they return to the small delegation of healers, one the Royal Healer of the King of Mirkwood, Thorin is startlingly polite and personally shows them to where Bilbo rests, if resting is what it can be called.

The minute the Royal Healer stepped into the room, she turned to the other healers and sent them out with rapid words in Elvish, before she turned to Thorin. “I hope you have another of greater skill coming, or all I will be doing is making him suffer longer,” she warned.

“We do,” Thorin responded.

“Then I will help keep him to this world. His will is strong and he fights to stay, but sometimes the will is not enough,” she continued and then focused on the Hobbit, paying no attention to anyone beyond telling Nori to shift over so she could look at the shoulder.

And that was when Bilbo began to panic.

When she pulled back and Nori could be seen again, he calmed.

“You…stand there. Don’t move,” she ordered and Nori laughed a bit before he did just that, insuring Bilbo could see him the entire time.

And she nodded a bit before she began to look at the shoulder. “An infection is starting here. I would burn it out, but his fever worries me. If we are not careful, his brain will cook,” she stated and Nori gave the smallest of shrugs.

“The first snowfall will happen soon. Then we’ll have snow to carefully push against his head,” Nori stated.

“What of his home?” she asked suddenly and Nori wondered if this was one of the Elves that Bilbo had spoken with before the Battle of Five Armies.

“I sent a couple of Dwarves who know the way to the Shire to go inform the populace of Bilbo’s fate and to make sure his home remains his, as he helped us gain ours back,” Thorin stated and Nori glanced at his nails, briefly, before he focused back on Bilbo, smiling gently at the bed-bound Hobbit.

Thorin glanced over at him, but did not ask as the Elf hummed.

“Let’s hope he lives to appreciate it,” the Healer murmured and immediately focused on the Hobbit, murmuring lowly in Elvish and Nori felt the fine hairs on the back of his neck stand up as he felt the magic began to slip through the air.

Thorin glanced at Bilbo, then at Nori, who gave a small nod, before he turned and left.

When Bilbo whimpered, Nori murmured softly and gently ran his hand through Bilbo’s curls.

And with a low whine, Bilbo passed back out.

The Healer was too busy with whatever she was doing to pay attention to the action and Nori didn’t bother to offer an explanation.

It wasn’t like that trick worked _every_ time.

Just most of the time.


	20. How to Rebuild a Kingdom

The rebuilding of Erebor paused for nothing, not even a King’s worry for a dear friend and companion who had proven himself over and over that he was, _is_ , a worthy member of Thorin’s Company.

There was wealth to sort, duties to delegate, guards to funnel off, the injured to watch over, the dead to bury, and the people to feed. Thorin was constantly on his feet, something that Oin had snarled at him over, and made him sit every time he saw the King Under the Mountain, or Balin just had him sign papers, or discuss rotations and even talk of opening up some of the smaller forges to get some minor work done.

The work is endless and tiring and Thorin is lucky if he can snatch a few seconds to check on Bilbo, but for the most part has contented himself to being told how Bilbo is doing by various members of the Company, Fili and Kili the ones who were most frequent, Kili more so than Fili, for Fili seemed unable to say anything, eyes distant and frightened.

The change scared Thorin slightly, because he was used to Fili being the solid one, easy and strong, though just as mischievous as his brother (and twice as likely to get in trouble), not someone who was already in mourning.

But the rebuilding of kingdom did not stop for an heir to grieve and Thorin did the only thing he could do.

He went to Fili.

* * *

“You must think poorly of our Burglar, to already mourn him when he has not yet passed,” Thorin stated as he watched his heir in front of the fire.

He shifts his head enough to avoid the empty bowl, wooden, thrown at his head. It cracks, but Fili is breathing heavily and across the room, clinging to Thorin’s furs, as if he isn’t sure he wants to cling and cry like he did as a dwarfling after a nightmare, or throttle his uncle and King. Thorin just carefully lifts his hand and gently cards his fingers into Fili’s golden hair, quietly urging him to rest his head against Thorin’s chest.

Fili breaks then, screaming and crying and snarling. He hurtles accusations into Thorin’s chest and hits Thorin uselessly, for he strikes at the light armor, not the face or anywhere to really harm, though bruises his fists with each movement.

And Thorin just gently cradles Fili’s head that way until all that is left is shuddering gasps of air.

“I cannot undo what has been done, but I can try my best to fix it,” Thorin promised lowly as he carefully pulled Fili into a hug.

Fili clung to Thorin in return and Thorin ran his fingers through his nephew’s hair before he carefully lifted Fili’s head so he could thunk their foreheads together as brothers-in-arms before he pressed a fatherly kiss to the top of Fili’s head in a manner that would prevent beard from getting into mouths, if Thorin’s beard was actually long enough for that to be a threat.

“Will Bilbo be all right Uncle?” Fili finally asked, after he had calmed down greatly and luncheon had been sent to the Royal wing.

Fili had returned to being the Dwarf Thorin knew so well, though he was no less proud of his Heir for his actions. These actions had been restrained until they were in private, as befitting one of their Royal Line, and would be politely ignored by any who had happened to overhear.

Now, with the trust and familiarity returned to them, came the question Thorin had been dreading.

“I do not know. I hope it to be so, but I will not give promises I do not know that I can keep, especially since I am a warrior and a blacksmith, and a king, not a healer,” Thorin responded.

Fili nodded slightly and leaned against the back of his chair. “Kili has shown an interest in the healing arts,” Fili stated.

“When he comes to me, he shall have my blessings. Dis will be pleased that one of her sons takes after her in that regard,” Thorin responded and Fili gave a small nod.

With that Thorin stood and Fili with him. “Uncle…may I accompany you today on your rounds?” Fili asked.

“Oin will not be pleased with us,” Thorin warned.

“He is rarely pleased with us.”

Thorin nodded and turned, Fili following at his right shoulder at a respectful distance. For now, they were no longer Uncle and Nephew, but King and Heir. And it showed in how they walked.

* * *

They were pouring over the rotation schedules for those outside of the Guard Balin had brought when Dwalin quietly entered. “My Lord, may I speak to you?” Dwalin questioned and Thorin looked up.

“Always, old friend. We are not in court, there is no need to stand on ceremony,” Thorin responded.

“Was Malin sent into Dale?” Dwalin questioned, looking distantly worried.

Thorin frowned and immediately told Fili to find the paperwork within the proper folder, while Balin frowned as well. “She went with a group into Dale near a week ago, and has been quite busy. She has checked into every duty she has been assigned and I get too late to check in with her beyond a quick check into her room. Why do you ask?” Balin questioned, even as Fili shook his head.

“She’s not on any Dale roster,” FIli stated.

“I can’t find her,” Dwalin responded and Balin gave a full bodied start.

Thorin turned to Fili. “Go inform Dis. She must take care of this. Dwalin, keep calm, and Balin, we’ll find her,” Thorin stated.

* * *

Nori smiled as a raven, looking very put out and bedraggled, landed on his knee. Nori smiled as his raven, Hannock, who cackled at his twin, Mannock’s, misfortune. “Well Mannock?” Nori questioned.

“My lady Malin has crossed through the pass safely. Bifur is leading the small company to the Shire swiftly and taking few breaks. He knows they are being followed, but the rest are without knowledge of their follower. I will gleefully return to Malin, for she reports that she will join the group once you give word. And after I have warmed up,” Mannock heckled and Nori gently helped Mannock to get his feathers to lie flat, even as Bilbo wheezed in the background.

Hannock chortled and teased his twin before he hopped back up to Nori’s shoulder. Mannock gave a nod, had his fill of Hannock’s dinner, and Nori smiled. “Tell her to join the group, through Bifur. He’ll keep her safe. Ready to go?” Nori answered.

Mannock huffed and snapped, but went quickly, out the hidden paths that the dragon had been unable to close, or even knew about.

Hannock chuckled, even as the door opened and the Elf healer returned, followed closely by Dis.

Dis who stood in front of him, eyes hard and vicious as she leaned into his space, hands on the arms of his chair. “Tell me honestly that you did not recruit Malin,” she requested.

“My lady, do not request things I cannot give you,” he responded.

“Where is she?”

“Beyond the pass, safe and sound. Dwalin trained her well, for she has run into no trouble, to my knowledge.”

Nori tried not to feel guilty over how Dis seemed to bow under the weight without truly bowing.

He already felt guilty over sending Malin out to follow after the group without having to add to it, and so he did not.

But he ended up feeling the guilt anyway.

Because that was the job of the Spymaster of Erebor; to shoulder guilt for things he could not change.

To shoulder the guilt for sending one the same age as Kili, and female to boot, out into the Wild with a raven and whatever weapons and provisions she could carry, as well as the warmest clothes they could put together, to follow after a group until it was too late to turn back and return her.

Malin had her instructions, Dwalin’s teachings, as well as Nori’s own when he saw the small friend of Ori who followed after him gleefully with silent laughter and clinging hands, and the trust that she would see the work done.

And Nori would cling to that while Dis glared down at him.

The question of _why Malin_ went unanswered.

Because Nori knew none would understand the answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fili has forgiven Thorin, though Kili has not, Bilbo was put on a back-burner, and Malin accidentally became the focus for half the chapter.
> 
> However, what did Nori find that would prove Bilbo lived to the Lonely Mountain and, yes, they had the right to make sure his home stayed intact?
> 
> (If that chapter ever writes itself, we'll know.)
> 
> We might actually head away from Erebor for a bit, to go with Bifur and the other Dwarf who knows the way to the Shire (Bifur to Bag-End specifically, so he's the leader of the expedition) or even Malin as she follows after them.
> 
> Which will be fun.
> 
> I have no clue.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the chapter.


	21. Malin (A Filler)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently, Mannock and Malin wanted some spotlight time.
> 
> I cannot deny a very pushy raven and his equally pushy Malin.

Malin watched the eastern sky as the black shadow took shape as Mannock, who winged his way towards her, and she smiled in sympathy at the way he moved and she lifted her arm, wincing a bit at the way she had to cradle the raven to her chest. He let out a weak cry and she carefully shifted until he was hidden away in her coat, fishing out the dried meat to begin feeding him, smiling at the way he took the food before burrowing himself away.

She smiled and quickly slipped into the small cave, something that never would have fit the group below of two pack ponies and five guards, one of which was Bifur. According to Mita, who was a virtual _fount_ of information about her Cousin-Uncle, he was the greatest tracker in the group, which meant that Malin had to be cautious and careful, though she knew, he knew, that someone was following them.

However, he hadn’t called her out yet, leaving her to keep warm in the back of the cave with embers, though Dwalin had shown her how to survive in the freezing cold of winter, probably motivated from his own time freezing during the winter months, when they were without any permanent residence, though all Malin had ever known, before now, was the Blue Mountains and the towns of Men, and the understanding of the Hobbits, who she had "chatted" with a great deal in Bree when she had first been there, and later as well, gleeful in finding children “her age” in equivalency, if not truly of her age.

Kili had been with her and they had had great fun, running about with other children, even if they were odd by _their_ standards, Kili with barely any fuzz on his cheeks, baby down practically, while she herself had a curling beard that Balin insisted was their mother’s curling down her jawline.

But, this is like the winter survival training Dwalin put her through, where she is alone with her supplies and her war hammer, having retrieved it from Dwalin without his knowledge, knives hidden where she had always kept them. Her thoughts turn to days long past and she smiles as Mannock crawls out, grumbling and fluffing, but also distracting her from her thoughts.

He preens his feathers, carefully, and she helps him, smiling as his deadly beak begins to do the same through her hair. “The pokey haired one says to reveal yourself to the carrier of the boar spear when you know he can’t afford to send you back. What does he have you carrying anyway?” Mannock explained and she laughed silently before she carefully pet his back, Mannock knowing Malin wouldn't (couldn't) answer him, though the pair were able to work quite well without the need for words, though Mannock continuously insisted upon filling the air with them.

And then she began to set up her traps that would warn her if anyone entered the cave, raven and dwarf sharing a small meal before both went to sleep, the soft embers casting the faint light in the corner they claimed as their own, and twisting shadows into unimaginable creatures.

They slept peacefully and without fear, Mannock occasionally shifting awake when something stirred at the entrance that shouldn't have before moving on.

When dawn broke, they were ready to follow, Mannock grumbling about the cold, but not crawling into her thick jacket to escape it.

Malin just leaned on her war hammer and waited patiently for everyone to get moving as she fed Mannock in the cold winter morning.

For she had a letter to deliver to one Holman Greenhand and his protégé, Hamfast Gamgee, written in Bilbo’s own hand, that explained the situation quite thoroughly, though played down death parts. It named every member of the Company, along with describing them, and explained that he would be helping with the rebuilding of Erebor and would they be so kind as to keep the Sackville-Bagginses _out_ of his home, thanking them in advanced for the trouble, along with a small paper envelope that held some small trinkets and low value coin, silly things that she had been curious over, until Nori had folded them into an paper envelope after picking them out of the treasury with a sly wink that made Malin roll her eyes at him.

She could see why Dwalin complained about Nori so often.

There was a sharp whistle that drew her out of her thoughts and she smiled to see them moving.

With a jaunty salute she was sure Bifur could not see when his eyes searched the area for her, she immediately began to follow once more, keeping to the rougher areas as she followed after them, a smile on her face and a complaining raven who made his way over so he could hide under her hood and into her hair, her scarf covering her mouth and nose to prevent puffs of air from showing.

Today was going to be good, Malin could tell already.

Mannock was of a similar mood, despite all his complaining.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, in the randomness that is my life, I decided to look up the House of Durin. Because I could.
> 
> And then I decided, "How exactly is everyone related to each other?" And then I decided to start with Thror, because that is when it splits off a bit.
> 
> Thror and Farin are first cousins.
> 
> Thrain II is the first cousin once removed of Fundin, and Gróin.
> 
> Thorin and Dis are first cousins twice removed to Dwalin, and Balin.
> 
> Gimli is Fili and Kili's fourth cousin, I believe.
> 
> Dwalin, Balin, Oin, and Gloin, are all Fili and Kili's third cousins once removed. 
> 
> Dwalin and Balin are Gimli's first cousins once removed.
> 
> Oin and Gloin are Dwalin and Balin's first cousins.
> 
> That was incredibly difficult and that was just focusing on the Company, with Gimli as an addition, because...Gimli.
> 
> With this, it is realized that Seven of the Thirteen members of the Company were of the Royal Line. Dwalin, Balin, Oin, and Gloin all were directly descended from Durin the Deathless. They come from the line of the younger son of Nain II.
> 
> Which means that Balin would have inherited the throne of Erebor if Thorin, Fili, Kili, Dain II, and Dain's son had all perished. This is a very saddening thought.
> 
> This also brings in another amusing fact.
> 
> Through this, we learn that four members of the Fellowship were of either Royal or Noble blood. Boromir is the nobility, but Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli were all of royal blood, so royal lines of Men, Elves, and Dwarves was represented within the Fellowship (along with the Kingship of the Shire, also in Aragorn).
> 
> This is what happens when my mind wanders and decides to look these things up to see where the House of Durin exists.
> 
> And then I decided that it would be a good idea to share this with my readers, since I put all this work into it for mere curiosity's sake.
> 
> (I apologize for lack of accents at places. I am too tired to put them in.)
> 
> Which leads to this.
> 
> Malin is Dwalin and Balin's half-sister through their mother. While she has a blood connection to Dwalin and Balin, she actually has _no_ blood connection to _anyone_ I just mentioned, beyond Dwalin and Balin.
> 
> She is in fact a non-Royal related to two (distant) Royals, who are Royals through being the Sons of Fundin.
> 
> The complicated mess of everything.
> 
> (By Eru, that was extremely complicated. Did that make sense to everyone who read it?)
> 
> Also, the letter was written while they were in Lake-town, before the Gold Sickness and such, and Bilbo had planned to stay behind.
> 
> Technically, nothing in that letter is a lie.


	22. Eavesdropping...Kind-of (Minor Medical Gore, Mentioned Semi-Graphic Corporal Punishment)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not approve of corporal punishment, and that leaked through on this a bit.
> 
> However, the corporal punishment mentioned in his chapter was not...done properly is a bad phrase, but was used in the wrong type of situation.
> 
> The mentioner was struck in anger, which should not be done, or, more likely, in parental panic, which also should not be done, and left the one punished in far more pain than was probably expected, and with injuries that caused problems.
> 
> Also, there is the fact that, in the setting this takes place in, caning would have been an acceptable practice.
> 
> The warning is more of the situation in which it happened, which was a bad situation all around and is a very good example of why punishing anyone while angry is a bad idea.

Thorin glanced up from his work as Nori’s raven, Hannock landed in front of him.

He had released Fili from his presence earlier to go be with Kili, giving a set of duties to delegate to a small task force that Balin had set up. Giving Fili a bit more leeway and responsibility, as well as power (in a fashion) would test his mettle far better than anything else Thorin could think of, and mistakes made young could be corrected before they became habit. “Hannock,” he greeted, thinking of how he had no raven attached to him as others of Ravenhill had become attached to other members of his Company.

Saroc, Roäc’s descendent, was a noticeable one, for she had taken to Balin, and even now other ravens began to find members of the Company to settle with, choosing to be their personal messengers over all others, while the elder ravens, such as Roäc, were keen to keep to Thorin’s side when needed, some old, long-forgotten magic alerting them.

“King Thorin,” Hannock returned.

Thorin raised an eyebrow and Hannock chuckled, sounding odd. “Forgive me. I forget my twin is no longer at my side. He is the chatterer, not I, but he’s taken to another and I must relearn how to be, something I never thought would come to pass,” he mused and then gave a shake.

“Nori requested that I tell you that a rebellion has been quelled, his network is in place, and that if he had a choice, he never would have sent Malin after Bifur and his group.”

Thorin gave a small nod, but all he can think of is a tiny wisp of a dwarf child who he teaches to ride along with Kili while Fili laughs, at the request of his long-time friend. He thinks of how Kili lords his few months over her with glee, while everyone who is close knows it should be a much larger gap, that they should be near a year apart, and maybe it was her being born early, to a dwarf mother nearly too old, who used up all her strength to bring her daughter into the world and into the care of two half-brothers.

He thinks of her fire and spirit and how an injured Dwalin had hugged her tight when he returned from the caravan that ran into _orcs_ despite the assurances that road was safe, and how confused the girl looked, but hugging him back just as tightly and then Dwalin thanking Balin over and over for telling her ‘no’ when she had asked to go on the caravan, and how thankful _Thorin_ was that he had said the same to Fili and Kili.

He thinks of the girl that was raised with his nephews and whose best friend’s older brother watched her when Balin and Dwalin both had to leave with Thorin to somewhere, leaving Dis with two rambunctious boys and a city to rule in his absence.

“Why Malin?”

“I do not know. It could be the same reason as why you chose the Green Child, but I do not know. I do not assume to understand the minds of Dwarves,” Hannock responded and then took off in a fluttering of wings before Thorin could ask who he meant by ‘Green Child’.

Thorin watched him fly out and, once alone, focused on his work once more.

He would ask a tough raven to fly to the group and greet Bifur. One that knew Khuzdul, as only the ravens of Ravenhill knew, something Roäc had assured him remained as part of their upbringing, and considered the mine rotations Bofur had submitted to him. They had explored, and restored as many mines as they could with the number of experienced miners they had, before they settled into the ones closer to the surface before delving deeper.

No need to call up anything dark, no need to find something _else_ to call a dragon upon their heads.

Thorin frowned a bit and approved the shifts before he moved onto the next piece of paperwork.

Kili’s request to be part of a scouting team, despite the fact there was a note attached from Oin that said he was not healthy enough for such rigors. There was also the fact that Fili had requested the same patrol group, with the same note from Oin, though this included colorful language.

Thorin sighed and stood up slowly from his chair, wincing at the pull of injuries.

Open Court was in two hours and Fili would be there. While Kili _should_ be there, Thorin had not been willing to force his more willful sister-son into his nicer clothes brought with Dis and make him sit from the second bell of the afternoon (the one that rang to inform the populace that the commissaries were closed, though once Erebor was refurbished, the commissaries would be smaller and for all but the royal kitchen staff) to the first evening bell.

He was not willing now, but he had no choice but to hunt Kili out and see if he could speak with the Dwarf.

It did not take long, for Dis was more than willing to tell him where his youngest sister-son was.

“He is with Bilbo. He often is, now. Gimli, Fili, and Malin used to keep him occupied, but with Gimli helping to watch the little ones, Fili stepping fully into his role as the Crown Prince, and Malin being sent off, no one urges him away. Maybe, since you are being a _King_ and not an _idiot_ , you can convince him to not spend so long at Bilbo’s side,” Dis stated and Thorin gave a nod.

He had a feeling Kili knew he would not approve of the request to go with the scouting party and Thorin walked up to where Bilbo’s healing chamber was, a bit surprised to find that the door was open slightly. He paused outside, and smiled when he heard Kili’s voice drifting out.

“…Fili’s forgiven him. And you have too, most likely. Probably aren’t even realizing that you should forgive him for anything. Why else would you sit at the foot of the mountain, waiting to die? I saw that cave, if you could call it that. Why? You’re not…you’re supposed to be headed for your green Shire. You’re not supposed to be here, trapped, under a mountain. You weren’t supposed to _stay_ here, not like this. You weren’t supposed to stay in this razed ground, far from your home. You weren’t supposed to lose that to get ours back.”

Thorin closed his eyes as the words washed over him, before he knocked and slowly opened the door to find Kili had fallen silent. “Leave it open a bit. The twig-eaters have been moving in and out all morning with both hands full,” Nori called from where he was writing at a desk that had obviously been recently placed within the room, his raven nowhere in sight, though a knife was.

“Thank you for informing me,” Thorin responded, making Kili start and turn around, surprise on his face, though still holding Bilbo’s hand.

Nori just nodded distractedly, focused on his papers, and Thorin turned fully to his nephew. “How is he?” Thorin questioned lowly, carefully drawing a chair over to sit down to face the pair.

Kili frowned a bit and held Bilbo’s hand a bit tighter before he shrugged. “He’s been still. The elf healer says that was her intention. She wanted to ease Bilbo’s mind, but the fever worries her. They’ve been bringing snow mixed with odd herbs and such in to melt and use to either soak him in or to push against his forehead, while alternating between keeping him warm. The place I shot him is infected, but not as badly as his side, which they had to clean out viciously. The elves and Oin have been very brutal about it, healing wise,” Kili reported softly.

“How are you?” Thorin responded and Kili stiffened.

“Well. I shot my friend, which I am still trying to get over, my brother is trying to encourage me to enter the world of royalty, and I want…I miss my uncle,” Kili responded softly.

Thorin nodded a bit and stood up, resting a hand on Kili’s shoulder, ignoring how tense he was and how he grew tenser still at the touch. “I have a couple of hours free,” Thorin stated.

Kili hesitated, and then carefully pet Bilbo’s hand before settling it back on the covers. “I’ll be back Bilbo,” Kili promised and Thorin let his hand fall.

When they left Kili kept at the respectful distance required of a Prince to the King.

It hurt, like it did with Fili, so used to being able to kneel down and have two boys run into his arms, near crushing in their hugs, clinging tightly to him and telling him about what has happened since he last stepped through the door.

He finds he misses his nephews that are more like his sons just as much as they miss their uncle, even if their uncle and their king were too close.

His grandfather, and on the rare occasion his father, had insured it, and usually if the offense was great enough (talking back, running in the halls, being a _child_ , not a perfect prince), it would be harshly corrected behind closed doors, one memorable time resulting in Thorin being unable to sit comfortably.

Despite this, there was never any doubt in Thorin’s mind that his grandfather, and father, loved him.

But there was doubt in the method, for it bred hatred for the crown he saw on his grandfather’s head, the less intricate crown on his father’s, _and_ the one they only made him wear for ceremonies.

He kept this in mind as he strode to a private room and opened the door, reminding himself of the promise to _never_ do that with his heirs, swore to let them have their childhood, so long as they behaved while in front of those they needed to behave in front of.

The door closes behind Kili and Thorin turns to face his youngest nephew, keeping in his mind the excitement on a small boy’s face as he runs up to show Thorin whatever he has found that day.

With this in mind, Thorin removes the crown and settles it on the table carefully, along with the other ornaments of office. With each removal, Kili relaxes until it just the beads he has always worn, marking him, then, as an exiled King.

And the minute the last time is dropped onto the table, Kili is clinging to him.

“I hate the King,” Kili whimpered softly and Thorin rubs Kili’s back with a smile murmured, “I know.”

Because he does.

He remembers, as sharply as if it had been just seconds ago, the way his cheek throbbed from the slap when he said the same words to his grandfather, biting and angry, because he doesn’t understand. He remembers the way, distinctly, how his father looked away as his grandfather struck him again when he opened his mouth, warning him about _treason_ , about _how could he think of putting **Frerin** in line for the throne like that_ , and _what was wrong with him, speaking in such a manner to his **grandfather** and **king**?_

Thorin remembers how sore he was after it was all said and done, how he could barely grip his sword the next day and how he moved stiffly, his backside down to his thighs still sore.

He had been teased by his brother and sister for going out and getting drunk (he had been unable to go to the family dinner and took dinner in his rooms, standing up and he figures this is the explanation given), while his weapons-master gives him new bruises for his foolishness by refusing to go easy on him, something that had sent him stiff-legged to the healers, Balin having to help him, in fact, because he got stuck half-way there.

“But I love my uncle, and I am confused and lost and I don’t know what to do,” Kili continued softly and Thorin tightened his grip on Kili, gently massaging Kili’s neck, at the base of his skull, through his mess of unbraided hair.

“I know,” Thorin repeated softly.

“How?”

Kili’s voice is sharp and accusing and Thorin remembers his promise, remembers how much it _hurt_ , even back when it was just a few smacks with his grandfather’s heavy hand, harder and more as he grew older, a sharp reminder he was never too old to be hauled in for a spanking or, worse, a caning (though Thorin had never actually done what he was first caned for, deciding he could bear it for Frerin, who had been the prankster).

He remembers sharply and realizes that his closely guarded secret (for while Frerin got smacked once or twice, it was never to the extent that Thorin recieved, the one in the spotlight as the one in the direct line of descent, and _never_ Dis) must be told.

Thorin shifts a bit, and slowly pulls away so he can look Kili directly in the eyes, to prove this is not a lie.

Only then did he answer the one he might as well have called ‘son’, along with Fili.

“When I was young, before…while I was still here, I told my grandfather the same thing. He had done something that I thought was too hasty. I told him, in the privacy of our chambers, that I hated the king. I was angry and phrased it much like you had. And he panicked, because he was scared, terrified most likely, that the wrong person would overhear and I would be dragged before him for treason. I believe it fueled him that day to the point where he did not stop to think, he just reacted. He was starting to hoard then, now that I think back on it.”

“What happened?”

“He struck me once, across the face. At first. I tried to explain, but he hit me again and warned me of treason, of Frerin. I couldn’t move well the next few days as I healed. My grandfather’s hand is heavy when he wishes it to be, and the treasonous words, for a prince, that I had let slip from my lips made him wish it to be,” Thorin explained.

He did not explain how he bit his cheek to keep from screaming in agony or begging for his grandfather to stop, that he was sorry, that he would never say those words again.

“But…why?” Kili asked, and this is his nephew asking his uncle, a very young nephew, younger than his years, and Thorin sighed and dropped down into a chair.

“I was always in the spotlight. I was the third in line for the throne, I had to act a certain way. Dis often speaks of running through the halls, does she not?” Thorin responded.

“Yes. She said you were always a fussbucket, always walking calmly behind her as she did so and that you…always…they weren’t talks, were they?” Kili asked, his mind making connections faster, rapidly now, and Thorin knows he has Bilbo to thank for that, for the memory games he played to keep them occupied on anything but their stomachs, making the boys _think_ , and Thorin wishes he had remembered that when he was banishing Bilbo, but there isn’t time for that.

“No, that was what they told Dis. They wished me to calm her in the halls and when I failed…it was never as bad as then.”

That was usually a sharp reprimand and two hits on his clothed bottom because they rarely caught Dis’s more…acrobatic antics.

“You never struck us, except that one time when I almost touched the forge while it was still hot,” Kili stated, confusion scrunching his eyebrows together.

“No, I didn’t. And I rationalized it, at the time, that it better a temporarily stinging hand than a burn, but I still didn’t sleep that night because of that,” Thorin responded and is startled slightly by the way Kili collapses on the floor in front of him, clinging desperately to his arm.

“How? Fili acts like you when he must, and even _I_ behave myself when outside our Company, but how did you do what they did without the methods they used?” Kili asked, and Thorin smiled before he gently tugged Kili’s hair.

“I swore to never do as they did, so I found other ways. Dis was best at it,” Thorin answered and he finds himself suddenly being hugged tightly by his nephew.

“I still don’t like the king right now,” Kili stated as Thorin hugged him back.

“But I love my uncle,” he finished softly.

“And I love you too, Kili,” Thorin rumbled out lowly before Kili released him.

It didn’t fix everything (not old memories Thorin wished to forget, including ones holding a certain Burglar over a wall, though the one time his grandfather struck him in anger, or panic, had long since healed, in Thorin’s opinion), but it was a start.

Now, he just had to get Prince Kili not to hate the King Under the Mountain, which he knew, from personal experience, would be more difficult than not.

They had just stepped back out, the trappings of his office once more on, when shouts of Elvish could be heard echoing up from one of the halls.

Thorin strode over, followed by Kili at a less than proper pace, only to find one of the younger healers there. “What is going on?” he demanded.

The elf stilled upon seeing him, almost as if he was carved from rock before he swallowed nervously and answered, “The Halfling is missing.”

The only thing that keeps him from shouting at the stupid elves is the heavy crown upon his head.

The only thing that stops Kili from _attacking_ the elves is Fili covering his mouth and hauling him backwards.

The only thing that saves Nori is the fact Dwalin swears when he came to collect Nori for something, Bilbo was still sleeping.

And none of it has them any closer to finding their burglar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ravens are magical and can talk to the Dwarves.
> 
> They _are_ speaking Westeron, or Common, something that I should have probably clarified, so I apologize that I didn't before.
> 
> Roäc, and his descendants, can speak Khuzdul, but only chose to do so when they must and really just a few key words, along with the war chant.
> 
> I feel the ravens, like the Dwarves, have a secret language that they share with their "chosen", but in the meantime use the common tongue, because the ravens can in my headcanon, they just don't like to if they don't have to.


	23. Finding Bilbo

Nori frowned as he looked over Bilbo's room.

There was no struggles, no indication that Bilbo did anything but get up and walk away. At least, until he really focused on the bed, taking in the way the sheets bunched and how it looked to his eye. Frowning at the fact there was no show of weight on the others side, as if someone had been lifted out, not gotten out on their own power.

As this suspicion turned over in his head he turned around to where Dwalin was standing. "Dwalin, you need to see this!" Nori called and Dwalin strode in.

"What?" Dwalin asked and Nori pointed to the sheets and mattress.

At where the the sheets were pulled at around Bilbo's foot area, how the sheet was bunched oddly at the edge. Almost as if someone had picked Bilbo up before sliding him off, trying to cover the fact he was carried out.

At least it looked that way to Nori.

They were rather foolish in that they didn't have someone get into the bed and slip out.

Dwalin stared and then turned, striding back out. "Thorin, we need to hurry. Someone took him," Dwalin stated and Nori stood calmly as he checked his knives.

Time to see if his web was as good as he proclaimed.

There was a rustling at the door and Thorin’s surprised, “Bofur!”

“Is Mita here? She’s not with her mother, nor her father,” Bofur panted out, obviously forgoing pleasantries.

It had gotten him hit often by guards whenever he didn’t bow just right to some noble back in the Blue Mountains.

“No. But I know where she will be,” Nori answered as he walked over.

“Bofur, with me. We have to find Bilbo. And where Bilbo is, Mita will be sure to be,” Nori added cheerfully.

Bofur, who was still coated in mine grime with his mattock on his shoulder simply nodded.

They had a friend and child to find.

* * *

Mita watched cautiously from the shadows as the five Iron Hill Dwarves, put together for a long journey, walked quietly through one of the darker halls. Mita was cautious as she moved, making sure to draw runes into the grime covered walls to mark the turns, not foolish enough to leave her way unmarked.

Of all the dwarves that walked through, it was the one in the middle she watched the most, for he was the one who carried Master Storyteller. Master Storyteller, who was still asleep, though he was shivering and trembling something awful.

She frowned as she carefully stepped forward, her bare feet silent in the dragon soot grime that coated the floor of this hall still. She continued to slip quietly through, the idea of walking like Master Storyteller making her giddy. She shivered slightly as the cold began to curl through and she realized they were heading outside.

Mita frowned as she began to pick up speed as she followed after them, the guards talking quietly amongst themselves about how Dain would never allow one who had stolen the Arkenstone live.

_Stolen the Arkenstone?_

She beamed.

Wait till she told the others that  _their_  Master Storyteller was her Uncle and Papa, and Cousin Uncle's Burglar!

The Burglar who gave up everything to give them more.

She resisted the urge to bounce and focused once more on the group, smiling at the fact they were slowing to rest. She frowned at the way they carelessly set Master Storyteller on the ground, silent and unmoving. Her hands tightened against the soot stained stone, staining her own hands further, because Master Storyteller looked dead beyond the soft rise and fall of his chest.

Her eyes darted to the group and how they weren't looking her way and smiled.

Her brother always said she was the sneaky one of the two.

She scrunches down and begins to pick up small stones, jagged and rubble. They are meant to hurt and she lifts her hand, rolls the small stones over her fingers. Mita eyes them and she began to walk forward.

The boots of the guards are ones that are easy to get rocks in. She had heard the complaint often from Dwalin when he came by, searching for Nori, Uncle Bofur's best friend. Usually, Mita had Nori right behind her as they eavesdropped, Nori grinning over Dwalin's complaints. She is quiet and silent as she listens to their complaints while they eat a ration and she wonders how long they've been marching, how long they've been carrying Master Storyteller. And she reaches forward, carefully dropping two stones into a boot before she began to draw back, reaching for another boot when a hand clasps around her wrist and she lets out a shout as she is hauled up by one of the guards, snarling and growling at them words Uncle Bofur taught her, after making her promise to never say them around her parents, while she was hauled up into the air, snarling more.

"We have ourselves a miner's brat!" the guard taunted and she snarled more.

"When my uncle finds you, he's gonna get you!" Mita snapped.

"That's  _if_ he finds us," the leader stated.

Her response was to spit at him.

She is sure the only thing that saves her from being struck is the fact she is a child. That doesn't stop them from tying her hands behind her back and her legs at mid-calf before she is gagged and slung over the shoulder of one of the guards, letting out muffled curses and weak kicks once she is settled. And then Master Storyteller is being picked back up, none to carefully, and they are gone again.

"The first snows should be coming soon. We'll leave him on one of the outcroppings to be found in the spring," the leader stated and they began to move again.

Behind the gag, Mita screams at them.

* * *

Bofur paused and, through the shadows, Nori could see his head shifting slightly, though all Nori could hear was the silence of a dead mine. “What is it?” Nori questioned softly as he balanced on one of the old mine paths they had discovered in their search for Bilbo, Bofur saying they could clear more ground this way and Nori believed him.

In these matters, Nori _always_ believed Bofur.

However, as it was a ‘dead mine’ it had not been properly cleared or marked, but Bofur’s history as a miner (specifically his long years in illegal mines that he started in when too young to work in legal ones) helped get them through safely.

And Nori had always trusted Bofur’s “miner’s ear”, which seemed to be what he was using to guide them.

“I heard something. This way,” Bofur answered and they began to make their way down slightly unstable paths.

Nori followed calmly until they reached a hall coated in dragon soot grime, boot prints and…

“Mita was here. She’s barefoot, lovely. But we found who took Bilbo,” Nori stated, seeing the disturbance through the grime, even as Bofur shifted his mattock.

“No more footprints after. They have her,” Nori stated and looked over his shoulder to see Bofur’s hardened eyes.

“I vote for getting them back, don’t you?” Bofur asked and Nori gave him a razor sharp grin.

Nori almost pitied the idiots that had taken their friend and Bofur’s niece.

 _Almost_.

“Let’s hunt some traitors,” Nori stated and Bofur gave him a dark grin in return as Nori led the way, easily following barely there tracks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We all should have known that the wrong people would hear about it.
> 
> Also, "miner's ear" is mentioned in this. This is more based off the idea that miner's have good ears that allow them to hear the difference in the rock that may find a new vein or gems or something. Whether this has any basis or not in truth, it goes with my headcanon that Bofur has very sensitive hearing. He can pick up differences in rock and such.
> 
> (And yes...he was a miner in an illegal mine. It was how he and Nori met. In my headcanon.)


	24. Through Snow and Ice (Graphic Description of a Fight...Very Graphic)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Far over, the Misty Mountains cold..."
> 
> An interlude in which we check up on Bifur and his small company of Dwarves while they head to the Shire.

The cries of orcs and their wargs echoed through the hills around them and Bifur let out a few snarls and insults while their pack ponies snorted fearfully and tossed their heads, pacing in place while the guards took up a circle. In the inky darkness of a nearby rock outcropping, there was a shift, as if something that blended into the night and shadow had just shifted their weight, but before Bifur could look closer, the orc pack, small and mangy, leapt out of the darkness.

Bifur's boar spear slammed through the warg's throat with the squelch of blood and muscle being ripped through and the creaking snap of bones breaking, Bifur twisting the weapon so that it sliced through the warg's neck, freeing the boar spear from the neck without having to take time to draw it back. Barely pausing, he turned and speared an orc through the chest, slicing it to the side as he had done with the warg earlier, only to feel his spear catch on bone.

There was a low snarl and Bifur spun with a war cry, pulling his spear back in hopes he could disoriente the warg, in time to see a war-hammer come  _slamming_ down onto the warg's skull with a sickening crunch, the wielder of the hammer moving swiftly to plow it into an orc hard enough to send the head arcing through the air while Bifur sunk his spear into another orc's chest.

There was soft pants and a calling back and forth.

They were lucky in the fact that the ponies were still there, though that might have been because Bifur made sure they were tied to a line so they _wouldn't_.

"Orcs and wargs, nothing for me to pick apart," came a grumble and a raven settled on their follower's shoulder (for who else could it be) even as they began to head over to where the guards rested, following after Bifur once he pulled his spear free.

Good to know their little follower could fight, for their follower was small. "We move," he ordered in Khuzdul and pointed his spear at their follower, which earned a warning sound from the raven.

"Get your things," he stated and the follower gave a respectful bow, one of a young trainee to an older warrior (Longbeard manner), before turning and heading into the darkness.

Their follower returned shortly after he sent their follower off (and Bifur was detesting calling the Dwarf that), a pack resting heavy on their back and cleaning the hammer as the follower rejoined Bifur.

Their follower needed a nickname before calling him that drove Bifur mad.

One that reflected the silence they walked in, even through battle.

"Sanatkât," Bifur, pointing at their follower and the raven gave a cackle from where he perched on Sanatkât's shoulder, hunched down a bit before shifting to hide under the wide hood, an oddly well-practiced gesture.

The bow was still respectful, but off due to where the raven now rested.

Tomorrow, in the morning light, Bifur would discover who Sanatkât really was, or at least if Bifur knew the Dwarf that had chosen to follow them.

They make another camp and set up a watch rotation.

Sanatkât, like Bifur, sleeps sitting up, the war-hammer resting upright against the rock that he has chosen to rest against.

* * *

The next morning, they rise, and Sanatkât feeds the raven, who is still complaining about the fact he can’t eat orc or warg meat. “Like the Battle of Five Armies. Why do I deal with this?” he complained, even as he stretched his wings and prepared to fly.

Sanatkât shrugged one shoulder and took out some cram, eating it calmly before he settled his pack, and war-hammer, near Bifur’s own things while the rest of the small company began to wrap up breakfast.

Once reassured that his pack and war-hammer was safe, he headed over to the ponies, focused on getting them ready to move while the rest began to get their own muscles working, Bifur among them.

He rubbed the ponies’ muscles into warmth, easing them from a night of chill, though the hardy mountain ponies were quite fine in their thick shaggy coats, though were growing restless due to the fact their own breakfast had already been consumed in the early morning hours during last watch.

Sanatkât even reached up calmly to scratch at their necks as he worked and pulled back with the ease of experience when the gray tried to nip him.

“Brutes,” the raven huffed and took off quickly as the bay pony snapped at the raven.

It screamed insults at the bay pony in his own tongue before he flew off and the hooded Sanatkât shook his head at the raven before he began to pull together the packs.

Bifur focused on finishing his own breakfast, along with a couple of the other guards, when he noticed the war-hammer.

He had seen that war-hammer before, or one similar.

But it was time to go, for the ponies were packed and being walked around patiently by Sanatkât.

The two guards in charge of the ponies took them and Sanatkât walked over to his pack, resettling it on his shoulders before he hefted up the war-hammer, settling easily as he waited for Bifur’s command.

“We move,” Bifur commanded.

And they followed, Sanatkât almost keeping up lazily as he ate cram.

When the raven returned, he landed on Sanatkât’s shoulder, complained of the cold, and said, “There is a mounted group of Elves, and one Wizard, headed our way. They seem to be moving with great haste.”

Bifur hesitated and eyed the raven. “Tharkun? The Grey One?” Bifur questioned and the raven nodded.

“He rides with one that shimmers and shines, and one who rides with grim haste, as if driven by a horrific memory,” the raven answered and he fluffed up his wings, even as they continued moving.

“How close?” Bifur questioned.

“Close enough,” the raven huffed and gladly accepted the dried meat Sanatkât offered him.

Bifur gave the command to pull to the side so they walked in a single file line, and they were rewarded for their efforts five minutes later when a golden haired elf on a black horse that was beginning to gray rode around the corner, followed closely by Lord Elrond on his dark bay from the hunt they had seen, who only gave them a nod as he passed them by.

Lord Elrond was followed by two youths who could be his sons, both riding gray horses, and they were followed by a few other elves, and last was Gandalf. He paused to nod to Bifur. “Orcs are through these hills, Master Bifur. Keep careful watch. It is the only reason Lord Elrond took so long to get moving, for he was trying to convince his sons to remain behind,” Gandalf warned and Bifur gave a nod before Gandalf quickly left them to catch up with Lord Elrond’s party.

“Do you think they’ll make it through the pass before it closes?” one of the guards asked.

“Hope to Mahal they do, or the Hobbit’s chances are gone,”Bifur stated, even as the raven buried himself back under Sanatkât’s hood.

And the group resumed their march to the Shire as Elrond and his company continued their race to Erebor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations of Neo-Khuzdul I probably blatantly slaughter. (I apologize for that.)
> 
> Sanatkât means "perfect (true/pure) silence".
> 
> Bifur gave her that nickname because she was very quiet in battle and he was tired of calling her "their follower" in his head.
> 
> My headcanon for Bifur is that, while he is a toymaker by trade, he is also a very good hunter/tracker. Because...boar spear. (Look up boar hunting on the internet. Scary stuff, that.)
> 
> Also; Bifur is calling Malin/Sanatkât "he" because women are called "he" on the road. One of the reasons there is talk of no female Dwarves across Middle Earth.


	25. Frost on Stone (Gory, gory, violence. So much gory, gory violence)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> VERY GRAPHIC DESCRIPTION OF VIOLENCE!!!
> 
> (My violent side came out today.)

Bofur was thankful that times of trouble and lack of food and taught him to squirrel away cram whenever he could get it, because they had been tracking the orc-spawned warg whelps in Dwarf skin for almost half a day. The Dwarves had to keep back tracking when they came to places that were for dead mines and Bofur, twice, had risked tracking through the dark, dingy, and  _unstable_ paths in the hunt for his niece and friend.

Despite how much he cared for Bilbo, his niece was a tad higher on his list of priorities.

His grip tightened on his mattock as he picked up speed, Nori easily keeping up as they came to another full hallway, still headed for the far side of the mountain.

A back way, maybe from the early settlement of the Lonely Mountain, maybe from before it had become known as Erebor. But it was an exit and it was a dangerous one that had Bofur trembling slightly in the shadows in the realization that his niece could be  _dropped_ , that  _Bilbo_ could be dropped, if these guards made one misstep. As those thoughts chased themselves around in his mind, his grip tightened on his mattock, his desire to bury the pick half of his mattock into their skulls growing and he paused when he heard echoing shouts of pain.

"I heard that," Nori muttered and Bofur felt a sharp grin spread over his features.

"Seems Mita has gotten to a position she can give some pain," Bofur stated as they picked up speed, Bofur easily leading them to a lower hallway.

They dropped down silently and, from the shadows, Bofur watched as Mita twisted and bashed her forehead into the nose of the guard who was holding her. He could also see she had bitten another guard's hand, her snarling visage stained slightly with trace amounts of blood on her bottom lip, as well as across her chin, not to mention on her teeth and the guard sitting in front of her the one in posession of a still bleeding bite.

The guard who had been trying to hold her released her as her forehead crunched into his nose, staining her forehead red as well as  causing the small girl to fall back onto tied arms, though she didn't pause in her attempted assault of those who came close as she screamed curses at them. "May all your gold turn to brass! May your diamonds break like elfin glass! May you never bring a continuation to your line and may all your veins by plundered for all their worth till all you have is brittle _rock_!" she shrieked at them, her voice rising as she tried to kick her bare and grime stained feet into a third guard's face as the third approached, but the one she bit quickly held her still and the new one tied a gag back into place, even as she let out muffled curses and shouts, still trying to snatch her way up to cause more damage.

"We should just leave her here," one of the guards, the one near Bilbo's shivering form on the ground, stated and the one binding Mita tighter so she could not cause them anymore harm, shook his head.

"Can't. This pathway has been closed by the King. No one will come down here and if we leave her, she'll die," the one doing the binding stated, even as he stood, leaving a snarling Mita on the grimy soot stained stone.

Bofur's grip tightened slightly on his mattock at the suggestion of the one bit. "Knock her out then?"

The two without a broken nose looked to the one with the binding and he hesitated before he removed his dagger and, after a few careful moments, took the hilt of the dagger to the side of her head. Mita jerked, obviously in pain, before she collapsed fully onto the ground and the only reason Bofur didn't leap forward with a snarl and begin murdering them  _all_ was because Nori gripped the back of his tunic.

"One not there," Nori pointed out and they had been following them enough to know there were five total.

And there were only four crouched in the area.

Bofur gnashed his teeth, but stilled himself.

He and Nori could take five, easily.

(But he would rather take the four now and leave the fifth for questioning.)

* * *

Bofur got his desire, in a manner of speaking, an hour later when there was a call ahead, probably from the missing guard and the one who had knocked Mita out (and now there was a slight stickiness that seemed to be in Mita’s hair and Bofur’s rage _boiled_ ) looked up. “Sator,” he stated and the one by Bilbo lifted Bilbo carelessly into his arms and now Bofur could see where his tunic, white, was caked with blood, both fresh and old on his injured side and he felt Nori stiffen behind him.

The one who was bitten, carefully, slung Mita over his shoulder and there was a low moan of pain from Mita which had Bofur’s blood boiling to the point of spilling over. The small girl shifts weakly and Bofur’s heart clenches as Nori leads the way out, gesturing what they are going to do as the move silently after the far too relaxed guards.

They think they are safe because they are in an abandoned and locked down hall.

They could not be more wrong.

* * *

They hide, still following, as the grime slowly begins to give way to frost on stone, showing where the elements have cleaned and worn the stone that makes up this long path.

The guards of the Iron Hills never suspect they are being followed, for Nori is too quiet and Bofur has spent his life in the illegal mines and he knows how to mask his steps so they sound like an echo of other sounds.

(Bofur is distantly thankful that Mita won’t see this, because she’s already seen this once and doesn’t need to see it again, and he’ll never erase the memory of how she stared up at him, eyes wide with fear before she buried herself into his offered hug, despite the blood that was on him, shaking and begging him not to get scary again, and all Bofur could do was hold her tight, never giving a promise that he could not keep.)

Nori settled slightly next to him and gave a sharp nod and gestured sharply.

Bofur didn’t hesitate as he rushed forward, Nori at his back before darting ahead as Bofur slammed the hammer portion of his mattock into the knee of the one carrying Mita over his shoulder. There was a sickening crunch of his knee being pulverized and the guard was screaming in agony, his arm slipping from Mita and Nori has her in an instant and is getting her to the side as Bofur spins the mattock around in his hand before he did an upswing into the approaching guard’s chin with the hammer portion once more.

There is the sickening crunching of bone being pulverized, of a jawbone being shattered beyond repair, of teeth most likely being cracked and there is the distinctive snap of a neck, along with a wave of blood as the head nearly detaches, and Bofur doesn’t care, he’s moving again.

He drives the pick portion into the chest of the nearest guard, breaking through armor with frightening ease to any who don’t understand miner’s tools.

(But he does, he knows, and he’s long taught himself how to use these tools of his trade, of his craft, to deadly efficiency.)

There is the slight give under his mattock and he’s turning as he hauls the mattock out of the man’s chest, more blood staining the frost coated stones. He is turning with the intent to send his mattock into a skull, in time to see that Nori has incapacitated the one who knocked out Mita and for a knife to drive itself into the skull of the one holding Bilbo.

That guard crumples, a poor cushion for the unconscious Bilbo, but it keeps Bilbo’s head from hitting the stone ground.

The guard whose knee he destroyed is still in agony; unable to focus on the world around him, but the one who hit Mita is trying to crawl for a weapon, despite the blood that is flowing from the knife cuts across the back of his knees, courtesy of Nori.

Bofur would be impressed, were it any other situation.

If the guard hadn’t hurt Mita, if he hadn’t abducted Bilbo, Bofur would be impressed.

However, as this fool has done both, Bofur strides over and brings his mattock down onto the elbow of the leader, the sickening crunch only overshadowed by the scream of agony that his forced out of the guard’s throat.

Bofur carefully shouldered his mattock and gave a razor sharp smile. “Should’ve kept still,” he stated.

“Bofur, I’m going to put Bilbo next to Mita. I’m going to bring back Dwalin and some other guards for this filth. Try not to kill any of them while I am gone,” Nori stated as he carefully, gently, moved Bilbo and used the guards’ supplies (they were planning to run, the cowards) to make a sort-of bed to put Mita and Bilbo on, Mita immediately shifting to be closer to Bilbo in her muzzy, head pain, way.

“I won’t,” Bofur promised softly and immediately settled next to Mita, gently running the backs of his fingers along her cheek, smiling at the way she shifted and sniffled a little, while Nori nodded.

“I’ll be right quick,” Nori promised and then was gone.

(When Nori came back, the blood had frozen into frost, painting the stones an icy red.)

(Bofur was sitting calmly next to his niece still, singing softly to the two unconscious and shivering forms.) 


	26. Blood Stains (Filler)

The rush of healers, Elf and Dwarf alike, swarmed over the group from the hallway, including Bofur, despite his protests. He was eventually left with a trainee Dwarf and her teacher while the rest swarmed over Mita and Bilbo.

The Head Elf Healer immediately touched Mita's forehead and smiled brightly. "She should be fine, despite the blood. She has a cut that will need disinfecting, but other than that, she'll be perfectly fine. She might have a headache on and off for a few days, but she'll be fine for some young Dwarves to take care off. The chill is already being warded off and we just need to make sure she doesn't warm up too fast," the Elf stated, before she rushed to Bilbo, who Oin had already shuffled off behind a screen.

Bofur didn't hear what she said about their Burglar.

(But he didn't like the grim look on her face and how drained she looked when she stepped back out an hour later, collapsing into a heap in front of the hearth on top of the fur rug there.)

(Bofur got up and tucked a blanket around her as thanks for helping Mita and draining herself to help Bilbo as best she could.)

* * *

The information Mita provided from what she overheard, when she regained consciousness, her distracted, pain-filled pleadings for her Uncle Bofur to go find Master Storyteller before he froze to death, because that was what the ‘orc-beget, warg-whelped, wyrms in Dwarf skin’ (and Bofur practically preened at that insult, which told everyone _who_ taught it to her) planned to do to him.

However, even as they hurried to reassure the girl that Bilbo was safe (though the girl still passed out before they could fully reassure her that he wasn’t out in the cold, freezing to death), the Company plotted vengeance.

Very few knew of the actions Bilbo had taken in regards to the Arkenstone.

Bard, Thranduil, Dain Ironfoot (who swore to never breathe a word of it to anyone), and two Dwarves Dain had with him.

His son, who would no sooner cross his father than skip off into the woods to join the Elves, and a records’ keeper who couldn’t be kept out of the meeting, stating that it was ‘an heirloom to the Line of Durin being discussed and as Keeper of the Artifacts of the Line of Durin, it was his duty and right to mark how it got into the hands of Elves and Men’ and refused to be kept from the meeting.

Lanir, son of Ranir, son of Lasur, was going to _pay._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so very short.
> 
> It is just a small filler to the next arc.
> 
> (Which involves a public Royal Pardon, some hunting out of a traitor, warrants, an angry, to put it mildly, Dis, and a very unexpected something.)


	27. Traitor Hunt (Mentioned Slight Gore)

Thorin was  _not_ pleased over the fact neither he, nor his heirs, were allowed to go on the hunt through Erebor to find Lanir, son of Ranir, son of Lasur.

The fact Dis  _was_ told Thorin that there would be nothing left of him. Dain was informed of the advisor's standing in Erebor, and Dain chuckled into his beard when he learned of Dis's desire to go hunting. "You'll never see him whole again," Dain pointed out.

"Don't remind us," Fili responded.

They had wondered who was in charge while Dain was here, but at the same time they understood that he couldn't travel in winter, not when Erebor needed warriors and healers were here. Dain was constantly asking ravens to carry messages for him, however, so the King-Under-the-Mountain and his Heirs figured that he was still running the major acts of the thorne from a distance.

When Oin enters the small meeting room off to the side of the throne room, he is frowning. "Bilbo's fever is climbing once more. He's unconscious now, but he's trying to fight us before and he's lost quite a bit of blood due to the fact that they were not being careful with him, and he fought us,” Oin reported and Thorin frowned at that, tapping his fingers against the table in thought.

“My king, his survival is not a guarantee,” Oin stated and Thorin gave a nod of acknowledgement before he glanced at Oin.

“Find Balin. I need his assistance with something I should have done at the start of all of this,” Thorin stated and Oin gave a nod before he left.

“Thorin?” Dain questioned as Fili and Kili’s eyes rested on him.

“It seems public announcements must be made. I have made a mistake and it will be corrected,” Thorin answered, eyes hard.

* * *

The public announcement would be talked about for days, for its simplicity and the raw possessive protectiveness that was in the King’s voice, audible to all Dwarves, but not to any of the Elves who had were taking the time to rest nearby and replenish their energy reserves.

_Bilbo Baggins, Burglar of Thorin’s Company, of the Shire near the foot of the Blue Mountains, has been formally, and fully, pardoned for his actions before the Battle of Five Armies, for his actions were done at great personal risk to himself and never once believing that he would ever be forgiven, let alone **live** due to the consequences of his actions._

But through all of that, the Dwarves heard something else.

_He is under my protection and there will be no forgiveness, not this time, or any time._

* * *

The traitor is found by Dori.

Dis isn’t sure if she should be angry that she didn’t get to draw first blood or wickedly amused by the fact first blood was drawn through Dori breaking the Dwarf’s arm.

Dori formally apologizes to Dis for drawing first blood on the traitor. At that point, she decides that she can forgive him. After all, he hadn’t _meant_ to break the traitor’s arm.

(Nori snorts at that statement and ignores how Dori glares at him. Nori knows that his brother meant to break the Dwarf’s arm. Dori has always been so careful, ever since he accidentally broke their mother’s ribs when he hugged her too hard as a dwarfling. He remembered Dori’s tears and guilt, and he knew that Dori never broke anything unless he meant to, keeping tight control over himself in both body and emotion to prevent any accidental breakage.)

(But Nori likes the fact the man’s arm is broken beyond repair. It is a _start_ in the way of retribution for the damage Bilbo has suffered through this traitor’s words.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why are these chapters so short?
> 
> Why, brain, why?


	28. Arrival (Medical and Sick Ickyness)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Despite how silly I made it sound, this chapter does get really disgusting.

The finding of the traitor was the beginning of the longest week the Company had ever faced.

The Elves threw everyone but those necessary out, but somehow the Dwarflings (not Mita, who was recovering from her adventure rather handsomely, but Bombur was refusing to let her out of his sight) kept getting in, trembling against Bilbo's side, Bilbo delirious, but awake enough to drink broth and tea. He began to get sick on second day, vomiting up everything they managed to get into him, the fever climbing to dangerous heights. The Head Healer worked herself into unconsciousness by the fourth day, and the other healers rushed about, trying to do everything in their power to save the Hobbit.

By the fifth day, Bilbo's breathing had become a rattling in his chest and his skin was so dry that keeping him hydrated was starting to become the main concern.

Outside the healing wing, at least one member of the Company was stationed there at a time.

Ori was a near constant at Bilbo's side, refusing to move unless Dori carried out his sleeping form. Whatever bond the pair had formed over the course of the Quest, it pulled the young Dwarf to Bilbo's side unfailingly, for after he awoke from passing out, he would grab some stuffed rolls and march back to Bilbo's bedside. He would sit and talk with Bilbo calmly when the Hobbit began to cry out for whomever, in that language no one could understand, and held his hand when Bilbo began to whimper.

It was on the seventh day, however, that Bilbo became still as death and seemed to fight for every breath.

Ori could not be moved and he clung desperately to Bilbo's hand the entire time.

Thorin was nearly trapped to his throne room, watching Erebor come to life around him and wondering if the price for their homeland was too high, if the lives of everyone had given to return it to the Line of Durin was worth it. He was deep within his brooding, Crown Prince Fili standing properly at his side, with Prince Kili just on the other side, his temper barely restrained, for the relationship between the King and the Princes was far from fixed, though the one between Uncle and Nephews was healing.

And then the doors opened a Lord Elrond walked in, flanked by two Elves that could only be his sons and followed by an Elf with golden hair.

"King Thorin, my apologies for my lateness. Where is Bilbo Baggins?” Elrond greeted.

* * *

Elrond slowly pulled his hands away from Bilbo, the chanting having ended some time ago and the Elves that were Elrond’s sons easily caught him as the golden haired Elf, Glorfindel, began to work on helping Bilbo cough wetly, thick mucus slipping out of Bilbo’s mouth and into the bowl Ori was holding.

More chanting was filling the air as Glorfindel began to murmur to the Hobbit, more hacking coughs filling the air, the mucus thick, but at least it wasn’t bloody. Thorin stood at the doorway, watching the way the elder of the twins actually lifted Elrond into his arms like one would a child, the powerful Elf lord senseless to the world around him. The younger of the two stayed behind to stand near Glorfindel while the other twin was led to the rooms they were given by one of the Dwarves.

Glorfindel was focused intently on the Hobbit, his voice rising in a soft chant as the coughing grew worse, more mucus filling the bowl before Ori switched it out for a bucket as Bilbo began to heave and soon the smell of sick filled the air again, the wet sound of acidic vomit hitting metal echoing as he continued to heave and cough. Thick mucus began to fall from his nose and he coughed more, tears slipping from his eyes.

He was gagging soon, trying to get everything out and, Ori’s eyes widened. “I don’t think he’s breathing!” Ori exclaimed as Bilbo’s face began to go purple-red as he tried to cough, but couldn’t.

Glorfindel didn’t waiver, just shoved at Bilbo’s back with his fingertips and a great hacking cough sent a glob of mucus and vomit slopping into the bucket, followed by Bilbo’s weak, yet whooping, cough, more mucus and bile slipping out.

The sickening plop it made churned Thorin’s stomach, but he did not leave, even as Bilbo’s coughing turned into wheezing and Ori began to grow concerned while Glorfindel pulled his fingertips away and sat, heavily on the chair the Elf had set there. “ _If_ he makes it through the night, he stands a chance of living. And if he survives the week, he’ll make it to spring, and beyond,” Glorfindel declared softly and Ori sagged onto the cot with a near breathless sob before he began to cry in earnest.

“Come along Master Glorfindel, to bed with you,” the twin stated as he helped Glorfindel stand before taking the warrior-healer’s weight.

“My thanks to yourself and Lord Elrond,” Thorin stated as they passed close to him and Glorfindel looked over at him with a weak smile.

“Thank us when spring keeps him,” Glorfindel corrected and then they were gone.


	29. A True Awakening (Medical Gore)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is really short.
> 
> I'd apologize, but I am exhausted.
> 
> So, I won't.
> 
> (I'd rather it be short and relatively nice than long and filled with mistakes and plot holes.)

The next morning, while Bilbo remained unnaturally still, he was breathing.

It was rattling and gasping, but he was breathing and that was the important part. Because nothing else really mattered now that there was a strong chance that he would live.

At least, nothing crossed their minds until Ori looked at one of the Mirkwood healers and asked, "How damaged will his mind be after all of this due to the fever?"

Only silence met his question and the Dwarves found themselves with a new worry. One that rested heavier on their minds than if Bilbo would live or not, for now that they knew he would live, what would be the price?

* * *

Bilbo stayed, mostly, asleep for the next few weeks, waking (but not coherent) sporadically, the infection finally, slowly, clearing out of his pus filled wound, healing finally allowed to take place.

Bilbo would babble in that language no one knew, except Bilbo, and even then they weren’t sure. The night terrors began as his body began to heal, screaming his terror to the ceiling, dragging everyone (except for Lord Elrond’s sons and Lord Elrond himself, mostly because the Lord of Rivendell had been forced onto bed rest due to his over-exertion of his healing abilities, and that only because his sons kept him to the bed) to Bilbo’s side.

They are constantly rushing to insure no more infections would return to the injury and when the last of the pus drains out of Bilbo’s deep wound, when the place an orc blade had sunk into his side is only a faint red, when the fever has lowered, though not gone, the Dwarves begin to take calming breaths and finally feel as if they are out of the woods.

Only Ori watches with concern, trying desperately to understand the whimpers and whispers that are spilling from Bilbo’s mouth when he wakes. He does not understand Bilbo, none of them do, and they can only hope that when the fever finally breaks, it will be so their burglar can speak with them all again in words they can _all_ understand.

Glorfindel has stepped up to aid Thranduil’s head healer instead and the pair converse lowly in something that is not Sindarian. Ori watches them when they talk this way, before he ducks his head slightly to listen to whatever Bilbo is whispering now, though it is useless.

It is a week after the last of the pus has drained out of Bilbo’s wounds when his eyes flutter open and, for once, they are not clouded. He looks around with pained clarity, and Ori leaps out of his chair to run to the door, shouting for everyone to come quick.

Bilbo is awake.

He’s also coherent.


	30. Speaking

Bilbo felt very, very confused, mainly because he was staring at stone ceiling and not sky.

Last time he checked, he was supposed to be outside, wasn't he?

(No, no, Fili and Kili found him. They brought him inside, on Lady Dis's orders. And...and that was bad, so very bad, Bilbo knew it to be bad, but he wasn't sure why.  _Why_ was it bad?)

There was a young Dwarf at his bedside (Ori, with his hair still in that child's cut, but it suited the bright eyed Dwarf quite well, in Bilbo's opinion) and Bilbo smiled a bit at him.

And then Ori was running and shouting.

Bilbo couldn't really understand what he was saying, but his side didn't hurt as much, though there was a faint burning, and he began to struggle to sit up when an Elf's hands moved forward, speaking to him (again, not in any language he could understand, what was  _with_ these people and being  _so rude_?) and easing him back down, golden...

Bilbo's eyes narrowed slightly upon seeing the Elf hovering over him. He could see the Elf, of course, long golden hair and very much the warrior, but it there was something almost off about him. He seemed to glimmer and shift, like there parts of his soul were peeking out and the Elf spoke in a soothing tone before brushing some of his hair off his forehead, despite how it seemed to want to cling, and Bilbo frowned a bit. "Why does it look like the Great One's Gift is shining through your skin?" he questioned softly.

The Elf seemed to still above him and then turned Bilbo's face to his.

The words poured uselessly over Bilbo's ears and he frowned more at that. "Speak in tongues we can all understand Ancient Child," Bilbo responded and then it, slowly, registered what he was saying.

He frowned and then he found Ori was back in his line of vision.

More words rushed past his ears, but understanding eluded him. He immediately fought to sat up, ignoring them, ignoring the pain that laced up his side, ignored how the Elf and Ori both tried to get him to lay back down, and there was Nori, who was watching him guardedly. But there was a raven and Bilbo pointed at the big black bird. "Dwarven Bird of Black, one of the Gifts from the Green Lady to the Stone King's Children, far more Ancient than the Ancient Children, do you understand me?" Bilbo asked, desperate, and ignoring the way they tried to get him to lay back.

The raven hesitated and then gave a nod.

"Do they?" he begged and the raven shook his head 'no.'

Bilbo felt his word shatter around him and he stilled, like the stone around him.

The hands and useless noise stopped and Bilbo took a deep breath before letting out a long, mournful, keen.

He once could speak and understand Sindarian, Westron, and his own mother tongue. He was well on his way to understanding, if not speaking, the Dwarves' language fluently. (Not his fault they spoke it around him.)

And now all he could hear was useless noise. The fact that the raven understood him was, most likely, due to the fact that the Green Lady's Champion was near-by. He was here.

Bilbo shook his head slightly, trying to remove the grief that clung to his heart, before he turned to the raven again.

Nori was looking between the pair, but Bilbo just began speaking with the raven.

"I can't understand them either. But the Green Lady's Champion should be able to understand me."

The raven fluffed up and then said something to Nori that caused the hands on Bilbo's left shoulder to clench and he looked up, or began to.

His eyes stopped, however, upon Thorin.

And it was then he remembered why it was a very bad idea that he was  _in_ Erebor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He spent a very long time with a fever.
> 
> He wasn't escaping without brain damage.
> 
> So....he can only speak his native tongue, the Green Tongue/Speech/whatever I called Hobbitish.
> 
> And he's a little confused, but that's going to clear up...eventually.
> 
> ANYWAY....
> 
> Great One is Eru.
> 
> The Gift is a soul, free will, etc.
> 
> Green Lady's Champion is Radaghast.
> 
> "Champions" are the Wizards.
> 
> The glowing, glimmering, thing is based off how Glorfindel was first introduced in _Fellowship_ with Frodo saying it was like the sun was shining from within him, or through him, and Frodo's vision always remained a bit...mixed due to the injury he sustained.
> 
> So it became my headcanon that, if your soul, in Middle Earth, brushes the doors to the Halls of Mandos, you get the ability to See that in others, and your own soul goes all shiny through your skin like that.
> 
> So, Glorfindel can see Bilbo's soul shining through his skin.
> 
> (And Glorfindel's soul is all shiny like the sun, but Bilbo's is not, but until we reach Glorfindel's POV...we won't know what it looks like, so enjoy the suspense over that.)
> 
> I think I've cleared everything up now.


	31. Forgiveness and Cold

Thorin felt as if he had been punched when Bilbo's face went from confused to terrified in seconds.

He did not remember the forgiveness Thorin had given while trapped in fevered dreams and he stood their uselessly while Bilbo paled, his breathing becoming erratic and Thorin just watched him while feeling useless.

There was no orc to kill, no goblin to cleave through, and nothing to fight against, for what terrified Bilbo was  _Thorin_ , and yet Thorin couldn't just leave this be.

Except there was no way to tell Bilbo that Thorin forgave him, that Thorin did not hate him, that Thorin wished for forgiveness from Bilbo.

He had lost the ability to understand them and, still helpless, Thorin slowly made his way forward.

He does not hesitate to crash to his knees next to Bilbo's sickbed, and Bilbo's eyebrows are scrunching together, the words spilling from his mouth not something that he, or any there except the raven, can understand.

Instead, Thorin just bows his head before Bilbo, a vice on his heart, while he rests his forehead against his fists.

For this is the only way Thorin knows how to say  _"I'm sorry. You were never a traitor, please forgive me. I take back your Oath, it is undone,"_  without words. He trembles with suppressed sobs, for there are Elves and his pride, though it has caused so many troubles, won't allow him.

He is not expecting anything in return, not sure if Bilbo will understand, though Bilbo's too sharp, too fast, breathing has slowed and Thorin remains there, even as an ache begins to build up in his knees, even as he shakes slightly from the pain building up in his joints as well from his position, and...

Two hands, shaking and small, but not, bury themselves into his hair, gently coaxing him to look up.

He lifted his face and found Bilbo staring down at him. There was still some fear in those eyes, uncertainty, and Thorin trembled slightly.

And then Bilbo smiled at him, despite it all and, painfully, leaned forward to press his forehead to Thorin's.

(In that moment, Thorin didn't care if there were Elves. He cried silently as the forgiveness ran through him and eased his broken heart.)

* * *

Bree, Malin decided, was a fine sort of place, if one liked dark places that looked down their noses at Dwarves.

She didn't mind that so much, used to it for her whole life long, and she focused on how the sleet pounded down, watching as she did from under the eaves, though the sleet splattered up to soak her boots. "You are a stone-brained moron," Mannock muttered as he settled on her shoulder and she snorted.

She glanced over at him and the raven shook all over. "The cold is too much. I'll have to wait till spring," Mannock stated and she scrunched her nose at that, though did not shrug her shoulder to get him to fly off once more.

"They think you male," Mannock murmured lowly and she gave a nod.

"You Dwarves and your secrets," the raven grumbled but otherwise did not demand she tell the truth.

What could they do about it now, anyway, except to accept? Better they remain in ignorance and not stress themselves about what they cannot change.

Mannock gently tugged on her hair and she stood up, shaking off her boots of excess sleet before she headed inside, the raven hiding as she tromped across the Prancing Pony's tavern before she headed to the area where the Dwarf sized rooms the inn-keeper had given them.

At least  _he_  didn't look down his nose at them, something that Malin was thankful for.

With a huff, she fell onto the chair in her room (she had paid for the seperate room herself, if only so she could barricade herself away if she so wished) and tugged off her boots, carefully setting them before the hearth before she began to do the same for her socks, Mannock having flown over to perch on the headboard of the bed. Once her wet things were hanging up to dry, she changed quickly into something, mostly, clean and settled on the bed, unsurprised when Mannock hopped down to settle on her stomach.

"You have any womanly problems I should worry about?" he questioned, eyeing her and she shot him a look.

Mannock gave a nod and she focused back on the ceiling, wondering when they would be moving to the Shire.

And she wondered how things were in Erebor.

And she hoped, not so deep down, that Bilbo would be there when they returned.


	32. Sleet Becomes Snow

Bifur frowned as the sleet became snow, Sanatkât with the other guards, his raven perched properly on his shoulder.

The inn-keeper said nothing.

Then again, he also allowed some Men to have ferrets on their shoulders, so he possibly didn't care, especially as Mannock sung bawdy songs right alongside the rest of the Men.

He expected Sanatkât to send him out into the gale at any moment, except he never did, always feeding and doting on the raven as if he were kin instead of a companion.

He didn't understand but, then again, he was not mute. He had companions to translate what he said, if it was of importance, and Sanatkât had none, not in the same manner.

While he could gesture to them and have them translate, he seemed to have a full on communication system of  _looks_  with the raven perched on his shoulder. Mannock often asked the questions he needed to ask before he had finished gesturing in Iglishmek, and seemed quite happy, and content, to let the raven speak for him.

Mannock was, as of now, chortling as Sanatkât hid his smile in his tankard at some of their companions' wilder antics.

He gave a low grunt and walked over to join him.

Sanatkât glanced over at him and saluted him with his tankard before he turned back to their antics.

Bifur leaned forward and raised an eyebrow when Sanatkât pushed a tankard toward him, before giving him a smile.

Bifur smiled back and the intelligent pair watched their Companions lead the Men in great drinking songs, cheering and starting drinking games and taking bets.

Tomorrow, when they bemoaned their hangovers, Bifur was going to  _delight_  in telling them they would be pushing on to the Shire amongst the freshly fallen snow.

* * *

“Will he ever speak Westron again?" Balin asked Lord Elrond calmly, once everyone else had gone to bed.

The Elf Lord should probably be asleep as well, but with his sons, and friend, passed out, he was walking about. He was also using a pinch of healing magic to check Bilbo over, the fever having broken, even if his temperature was still a little too high to be  _comfortable_ , his brain was no longer cooking.

"I do not know. In this matter, my healing skills are not absolute. Glorfindel's are far better, but he will not want to leave me to traverse the Misty Mountains back with only the guard and my sons. He fears what will happen if we run into Orcs and he is not there to drag me from the fighting that would surely come about from that chance crossing," Elrond answered, carefully patting sweat away from Bilbo's skin.

Balin was doing the same as well, the pair taking care of the sleeping Hobbit.

He stirred now, just a bit, but not much.

HIs body had been severely taxed and he still fought the injury in his side, but Elrond declared him on the mend.

"I have long heard of the Elves hatred for Orcs, but I had not thought it so absolute. I thought Elves had more sense than Dwarves," Balin answered, though the last was said with a smile.

Lord Elrond glanced up at him, considering, and Balin wondered what it was the Elf was searching before he looked back down.

"Thorin is not the only one to lose family to Orcs. He is not the only one to have that which he treasures most in his heart  _defiled_  by Orcs. He does not lay claim to that," he responded softly as he carefully shifted Bilbo so that he could wash the Hobbit's hair.

Balin watched him and answered, "I am sorry for your loss."

"She rests in the West, across the Sea, and hopefully is healing. And one day, I shall join her. Till then...I wait and watch over Middle Earth as best I can," Elrond responded softly, his ring catching the candlelight as he eased dried sweat from Bilbo's curls.

The Hobbit twitched and hummed before he stilled again.

"When will you return to Rivendell?" Balin asked.

"When the snows clear. It was a dangerous trek getting here and it will be far more dangerous getting back. Neither Elladan nor Elrohir would forgive me if I tried to cross the Misty Mountains now," Elrond answered.

They fell into silence at that.

"For what it is worth, I thank you for coming to his aid," Balin stated.

"I could do no less for one so brave. Gandalf thinks highly of him, and so does Thranduil and it is near impossible to get on Thranduil's good side, yet this Hobbit has done so. I could not allow one who warmed his heart so go. Despite our differences, Thranduil and I were once friends, though our rivalry has heated since we first met and soured that friendship, I hope to find it renewed, one day," Elrond explained.

Balin nodded and the pair soon settled Bilbo back into the bed, Elrond checking his side one last time before he left.

Balin sighed as he settled into the chair by the hearth and glanced over at Bilbo, who slept on. Apprentice healers would be in and out for the rest of the night, so there was truly no need for one of the Company to sit in Bilbo's room (particularly as Nori was, most likely, hiding in a corner somewhere within the room, possibly in one of the, three, "secret" passages that lead to this room instead).

But it soothed Balin to be here, making sure to keep an eye on Bilbo, should he wake confused.

He knew, once Bofur was freed up, he would be keeping to this room as well, remembering how it was with Bifur, terrified Bilbo would end up like him as well, trapped to one language, never able to speak anything else though he understood it all.

Bilbo possibly wouldn't even be  _that_  well off.

And that uncertainty kept Balin company all through the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is slowly coming to an end.
> 
> It will probably wrap up in two to three chapters which means...
> 
> SEQUEL!!!
> 
> I can't leave you guys not knowing about Bilbo!
> 
> And, you know, it will take _far_ longer than two to three chapters for Malin to return to her brother and Bifur to Bofur and Bombur (and Bombur's wife and children).
> 
> So, there is that.
> 
> (But, yay! Another completed fic!)
> 
> (Eventually)


	33. A Letter and a Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Or I'll finish it now.
> 
> I should have the next part posted shortly after the next one of Mute!Bilbo.

Bilbo opened his eyes and smiled when one of the children crawled up onto his bed.

He was having trouble gripping names, the names slipping out of his mind like water from a sieve, though he would catch a part of one before it joined the rest of the name. But she was bright and warm and cuddled right up to his side as if she did it all the time.

And he could remember that, and telling them stories that he shouldn't have, and the way they listened, clinging to his shirt, careful of his side.

The battle was a mess of noise and blur in his mind, but Bilbo felt that was for the best.

From the way the others looked, how they _sounded_ , it was not a nice thing. That the battle had probably been horrific and nasty and not worth the pain it was obviously still causing.

He gave the little girl (she wore a skirt) a smile and carefully ran his fingers through her hair, making sure not to touch her beard. She giggled and leaned into his hand before she tugged at his hand until he had her in one armed hug. She then snuggled into his side and let out a happy sigh as she wrapped her fingers into his shirt.

Bilbo pat his shoulder and murmured, "Bright flower."

He knew it was in the Green Lady's Speech because her eyebrows furrowed and she said something in a similar manner to something she had said before. He just gave a small nod and gently tugged at her hair before he settled back, the Dwarf girl burying her face into his shoulder. He hummed softly as he continued to pet the girl's hair and he smiled at the way she seemed to relax entirely against him, the feeling of being trusted filling his being with warmth. He continued to hum before he slipped into singing quietly.

 _"Flower bright, flower sight, blooming on the field. Flower bright, flower sight, you are treasured by me. Freely hear the breeze sing, freely see the sky. Flower bright, flower sight, you are precious to me. Stars may gleam, the breeze may sing, but always, always, you are darling to me,"_ he sung quietly, remembering the way he used to sing it to his young Took cousins to get them to settle down.  


He smiled at the way she was sleeping against him and he looked up to find Nori staring at him in shock. Bilbo tilted his head to the side curiously and frowned when Nori spoke, it was in the usual way that he didn't understand. He then settled back and closed his eyes, slipping into sleep as well.

* * *

“How is our Hobbit doing?” Kíli asked cheerfully as his brother followed closely at his heels.

“He sang in Westron,” Nori answered, staring at their friend’s sleeping form and Kíli perked up.

“He’s cured?” Fíli asked hopefully, but it died when Nori shook his head.

“He still didn’t understand me. I can’t explain it, but he did sing a few words in Westron. Not entirely, but he did sing in it briefly,” Nori continued.

“So…there’s hope?” Kíli questioned.

“There was always hope, Kíli. There’s just a bit more now,” Fíli answered softly and Kíli nodded eagerly in agreement before grinning and pointing at Bombur’s little Mita who was cuddled up with Bilbo.

Kíli then quickly rushed over and looked prepared to join them, had Fíli not quickly followed and stopped him.

Nori smiled and turned to his raven, Hannock and quietly conversed with him about the mad Wizard in Mirkwood.

The Wizard who would not leave, not for anything, of course not.

“We could take him to the Wizard,” Hannock offered quietly.

“He’s not strong enough,” Nori argued.

Hannock shifted and puffed up briefly before he settled. “By Spring he should be,” Hannock offered.

Nori moved to argue before he let it go and nodded in agreement.

Come spring, they would try to find the Brown Wizard and see if he could help their Hobbit reconnect with the people who owed him their homes.

* * *

The Shire was quiet, peaceful, and a bit unwelcoming.

While the chill of winter was nothing like the winters in the Blue Mountains, Malin could tell it would get colder before spring broke through.

Mannock just seemed thankful he didn’t need to hide in her jacket anymore as they walked through the Shire, leading their ponies quietly toward the back.

Malin followed Bifur’s lead as they headed up the dirt path up the largest hill, which had a tree on it, towards a nice set of little holes in the ground. As they got closer, Malin noted the Hobbits got more and more curious.

She nodded to them politely as they walked past and Mannock pretended to be unable to speak. When they finally got to the top of the Hill, she noticed that Bifur seemed to be at a loss. The Dwarves had no knowledge of who was in power around here and the only Hobbit nearby was one in the garden surrounding the hill with the door that had a glowing rune on it.

Malin gave Mannock a look.

“No,” Mannock stated.

She glared and jostled her shoulder and Mannock heaved a sigh.

“Fine. Holeman Greenhand. We need Holeman Greenhand. Master Greenhand, this lovely Dwarf I am with has a letter from Master Bilbo Baggins of Bag-End, son of Bungo Baggins and Belladonna Baggins, nee Took. Will you come out now?” he cawed out, urging Malin to walk to Bag-End when a male Hobbit stood up.

Malin carefully opened her coat and pulled her bag out from under her overtunic, tugging it free before she opened it. Once it was in her hand, she opened it up and handed over a letter to Master Greenhand with a polite bow that Balin had taught her.

He took it shakily and Mannock let out a gruff caw like sound. “Thank you,” Mannock stated and Malin returned to Bifur, or were going to when Mannock tugged her hair.

Malin sighed and turned back around.

“Master Greenhand, can you tell us who to go to so that our company can find lodgings for the Winter?” Mannock asked.

The gardener started and then nodded. “You’ll have to see the Thain,” he explained and then began to explain everything in great detail on how to get there.

Malin figured he wanted them gone.

She didn’t particularly blame him.

* * *

The Thain welcomed them warmly when they brought news of his nephew, Bilbo, and gave them the use of a smial within the Tookborough itself in exchange for some forge work, which Malin was more than happy to provide.

(She _liked_ making tools. She liked being _useful_.)

They would spend the winter in the Shire.

And, when the spring came, they would leave.

Malin is sure that the minute she returns to Erebor, Balin and Dwalin are going to lock her up in her room.

She wouldn’t blame them for it, not for one moment, because she disappeared in the night without even saying good-bye.

(And she doesn’t think she can ever forgiver herself for that despite how much she’s enjoyed her adventure.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Like water through a sieve" is one my favorite sayings.
> 
> Or "sand slipping through your fingers."
> 
> They're both my favorite of that type.
> 
> On another note....
> 
> YAY!!!
> 
> There is hope for Bilbo in the matter of complete recovery and Malin has delivered the letter!
> 
> On that note, the next part will begin in spring, so like a couple of months after this chapter because...yeah. Nothing happens beyond day to day stuff.
> 
> And Malin is going to be in _so_ much _trouble_.

**Author's Note:**

> In this work I mention a "Thief's Lamp" which is a knot of thread.
> 
> It was created by [GreenKangaroo](http://archiveofourown.org/users/greenkangaroo/pseuds/greenkangaroo) for the various Nori fics that this person writes.
> 
> These fics are GLORIOUS AND WONDERFUL AND YOU SHOULD READ THEM!!!
> 
> The Nori feels will drown you.
> 
> Probably.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Unsafe Places](https://archiveofourown.org/works/736808) by [rabbitinthewoods](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rabbitinthewoods/pseuds/rabbitinthewoods)




End file.
